


Jumanji: The Maze Trials

by beardyswrites



Category: Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (Movies), The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Jumanji Fusion, Bully Gally (Maze Runner), Crushes, Detention, Humor, M/M, Minho Ships It, Oblivious Thomas, Protective Newt, Redemption, Sassy Minho, The Flare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 26,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22107412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardyswrites/pseuds/beardyswrites
Summary: High schoolers Thomas, Newt, Minho and Gally are in detention when they hear the eerie roar of drums, calling them to an ancient video game gathering dust in the cupboard ...
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 172
Kudos: 337





	1. Drums in the Deep

**Author's Note:**

> I've been so excited to post this!! Came up with this idea the other morning and couldn't stop writing it. It's a little more relaxed than my other TMR fics, just a bit of fun :D enjoy! xx

Thomas tapped his pen against his fingers, dark eyes staring at the classroom clock as his knee bounced erratically beneath his desk. Just fifty more minutes, just fifty more -

A piece of paper hit the back of his head. He scowled.

“Dude, do you mind?” Minho, his Asian best friend, snapped at the boy sitting behind them.

“Yes, I mind,” Gally retorted. His eyebrows furrowed further, plunging so hard they looked like a bird about to take off, Thomas reckoned. “If this idiot shank hadn’t pushed me -”

“Bloody hell,” Thomas’s other best friend, Newt, called in a decidedly British accent, sweeping a hand through his blond hair. Okay, make that Thomas’s crush. “You antagonized the shank first!”

“Yeah, maybe I was just finally tired of your crap, Gally,” Thomas bristled.

His face flushing, Gally stabbed a finger at him. “You listen to me carefully, Greenie. None of this would be happening if you had -!”

“Been the responsible young lads we expect you to be.”

They all spun to look towards the doorway of the classroom. It was their home class teacher, Mrs Paige.

She peered at them sourly, her blonde hair pulled back tightly against her scalp, unnaturally red lips twisted in a thin line. “For your detention today, the four of you are being sent down to the basement to do some filing work,” she told them.

Minho groaned and face-planted on the desk.

“No buts,” Mrs Paige snapped. “When you return in an hour, I expect a more civilised display of behaviour from each of you. What’s our most important rule?”

“Respect and treat others as you would like to be,” Newt recited in a monotone.

“Exactly. Preferably with less sarcasm, Mr Isaacs,” she added. “Now, if you would please follow me.”

As they walked, Thomas couldn’t help feeling guilty. He glanced at his friends; they shouldn’t have even been in detention with him. Gally had taunted him, and finally at his limit with Gally’s jeers, Thomas had shoved him into the wall. Minho and Newt intervened just as the first punch was thrown - Thomas’s nose was still sticky with traces of blood - and that was when Mrs Paige arrived, finding them in the midst of what was rapidly becoming a full scale brawl, despite Newt’s best intentions to defuse the situation.

“I can see the steam coming out of your ears,” Newt muttered to him as they traipsed down the corridor in a sombre line, well aware of how empty the school was now. “Don’t worry about it, mate. Let’s just get this over with.”

Thomas nodded, nudging his shoulder against Newt’s.

o-o-o-o-o

The basement was cold, damp, and dimly lit. Awaiting them, crowding the space, were multiple boxes crammed with folders and slips of paper to be organised.

“Each must be sorted alphabetically, by year and class number,” Mrs Paige told them. “If at least three of these boxes are not done by four o’clock, consider your detention extended by another two days.”

Newt sucked in a sharp breath. Gally opened his mouth to protest, but Minho kicked him firmly in the shins, out of the teacher’s line of sight. “Of course, ma’am,” he replied, his teeth clenched behind a winning smile.

With one final stern look, Mrs Paige disappeared up the stairs and closed the door.

Gally scoffed. “This is ridiculous.”

“Enough, Gally,” Newt told him tiredly.

Thomas threw him a grateful look. “Yeah, come on,” he said, nodding. “Let’s just get stuck in and -”

Suddenly, the roar of drums filled the room.

Yelping, all of them whirled around, eyes wide. It sounded ancient, mysterious; a heartbeat pulsing, resounding through their bodies.

“What the hell you done now, Thomas?” Gally growled.

Thomas threw his hands up. “How could it have possibly been me?”

“Yeah, get your head out of your ass for one second so you can actually hear klunk,” Minho spat. He pointed. “It’s coming from those cupboards.”

Thomas threw himself forward, pulling at the cupboard doors, eyes scanning the contents in a manic fashion, searching. He flung open the third set, and the drums fell silent.

“What is it, Tomboy?” Minho asked, cautiously stepping towards him.

Thomas frowned. “It’s a ... it’s an old video game console.”

Minho crouched down beside him, his eyes lighting up. “Wicked!”

Jumping to his feet, Thomas carefully put the battered console on the workbench, staring at it curiously, fingers twitching over the buttons. His face a mask of concentration, he began plugging wires into the dusty television set wedged into the corner, forgotten amidst mass technology upgrades throughout the rest of the school.

Newt groaned. “Tommy, come on. I’ve got art class tomorrow; I can’t afford another day of detention.”

“Shouldn’t have tried to save your precious boyfriend then,” Gally told him.

New flushed, his eyes shining, and Thomas choked.

Minho stared. “Gally, can you not be a slinthead for two seconds?”

“One, two -”

“Oh, my bloody god!” Newt yelled. “Enough!”

Thomas pushed the _on_ button, and the screen flickered blindingly to life, drawing their attentions. _JUMANJI_ , it read.

“Can’t believe the piece of junk works,” Gally muttered disbelievingly, trying but failing to hide a somewhat impressed expression.

Minho passed out the other battered controllers to the rest of them. When Gally didn’t take his, Minho rolled his eyes and tossed it on the table beside him.

Newt glanced forlornly at the stacks of paperwork. “We should really start on that klunk first.”

“Just one game, Newt,” Thomas begged, throwing Newt his biggest puppy eyes.

Newt pinched the bridge of his nose to stop himself smiling; Tommy was sometimes too adorable for his own good. “One round, and you owe me In n’ Out.”

“Deal.”

Gally folded his arms. “I’m not playing,” he told them.

Thomas ignored him, fingers curling around the controller. “Okay, let’s see who we’ve got,” he murmured, scrolling through the character list.

“Doctor Smolder Bravestone,” Newt laughed, reading the name of the first avatar.

“Obviously me,” Minho grinned.

Thomas hit the arrows beneath his fingers. “Franklin ‘Moose’ Finbar ... Professor ‘Shelly’ Sheldon Oberon ... Ruby Roundhouse -”

“Aw hell yeah, we got a chick!” Minho interjected.

There was a huff of laughter from Newt. “Don’t tell me you’re calling dibs on her too.”

“I’m not playing,” Gally repeated stubbornly.

Newt rolled his eyes. “Come on, Gal. One game. We’ll probably need all four characters.”

The nickname jarred Thomas, reminding him that Newt and Minho had once been good friends with Gally before he had fallen in with a bad crowd; before he decided to pursue a personal vendetta against Thomas.

“Fine,” Gally snapped.

An uncomfortable silence settled across the room. Thomas cleared his throat. “Guess I’ll pick this Bravestone guy,” he said, hitting the A button.

“I was gonna pick him!” Minho complained.

Without warning, a green glow began to consume the ancient console, and then tendrils of light flung themselves across the room, wrapping around the four boys, twisting, squeezing, pulling.

Newt gasped, feeling as if he were being pulled away. “TOMMY!”

“What the shuck is happening?!” Minho roared, staring at his hands in pure horror as his body steadily dissolved into the streams of green light.

“Newt! Minho!” Thomas yelled, the tug in his gut dragging him to places unknown, terror surging through him as the room began to flicker before his eyes.

“I’m gonna kill you, Thomas!” Gally howled.

There was a bright flash of light, and then darkness.


	2. It Began in Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with another one!! I've been so stoked with the feedback for this, thank you so much! Without further ado, here is the next part :D xx

Thomas woke up in a large metal cage, dimly lit with red emergency lighting.

He wasn’t alone. Across from him was a tall, lean girl with flaming hair, wearing a ridiculous crop top and booty shorts. In the other corner was a smaller dark-skinned man swearing up a storm, right next to a pudgy, bearded man, his pale skin flushed.

Fear surging through him, Thomas stumbled to his feet and promptly smacked his head on the grated roof. “Ah!” he yelped - and that was when he caught sight of his body.

He wasn’t himself. It was the only way to put it. For starters, he had _muscles_ , bulging biceps and quads straining against the fabric of his clothing. He felt like a tank, he was suddenly taking up so much space. He reached up to habitually run a hand through his hair and froze, his eyes bulging; he was _bald_.

“What’s wrong - what’s wrong with my voice?” the red-headed girl across from Thomas gasped. She buried her fingers in her hair, staring at the long strands. “Bloody hell!” She glanced down, patting her chest in mounting horror. “I’ve got - I’m a _girl_! Bloody buggering shuck!”

Thomas started, his face flushing. “Newt?” he choked out.

The girl’s head snapped up, her beady eyes landing on him. “Yeah. Who the shuck are you?”

Thomas’s thoughts were moving in fast forward as he glanced down at his own impossibly muscular, tanned body. “It’s - it’s me! Thomas! I’m Thomas!”

The girl’s face went white. “Tommy?” she - _he_ \- uttered weakly.

“Yeah, Newt, buddy, it’s me!” He glanced around, and realisation dawned. He swallowed thickly. “I think ... I think we’re in the game.”

“Explain,” Newt demanded.

“I think we’ve become the avatars, somehow,” Thomas stuttered. “I - I became Doctor Bravestone, and you, Newt, became Ruby Roundhouse. It’s still us, but we look and sound like completely different people - I don’t know _how_ -”

“Like that’s new. You never know anything!” yelled the smaller man with a backpack almost the same size as his body. He wore a patch with the name _FINBAR_ sewn onto it.

Thomas flinched. “Gally?” he called tentatively.

“Nice shucking job,” came the snarled reply.

Wincing, Thomas’s gaze turned to the last remaining person in the metal cage. “Which leaves ...”

“I’m a fat middle-aged guy in a stupid hat!” Minho howled. “And I’m _white_! White people always get into stupid klunk; my point has just been proven!” He waved at Thomas. “Why the hell did _Tomboy_ get the hot guy?!”

Thomas blinked, still staring dazedly at his gargantuan arm muscles. “Huh?”

“None of _us_ got to choose!”

Newt groaned. “And why the bloody hell did _I_ get the girl?”

“You’re the only one not to take advantage of it,” Minho pointed out, sniggering.

“Slim it, _Sheldon_ -”

“Just saying, I would’ve taken a peek by now -”

There was the distant blast of a foghorn, and all of them fell silent.

A voice echoed in Thomas’s head and all around at once; soft, silky, inescapable. “ _In the beginning, there was darkness_ ...”

Minho swallowed audibly. “What the shuck ...”

With the shriek of gears, the cage went catapulting upwards.

o-o-o-o-o

The four of them were thrown heavily to the floor as the lift rose higher and higher, faster and faster, the darkness flickering around them.

“Where is this thing going?!” Gally roared, visibly terrified as he stared upwards with wide eyes at the seemingly endless height of the shaft.

Thomas pushed himself upright. “I don’t know!”

Without warning, the floor dropped away beneath them.

Thomas grabbed the metal walls, jamming his fingers through the diamonds and hanging on for dear life.

The others weren’t fast enough. Screaming, hands clawing at the walls for purchase, Newt, Minho and Gally plummeted into the darkness, limbs flailing. Seconds later, they disappeared.

“NEWT!” Thomas screamed in horror. “MINHO!”

There was only silence. Thomas felt his chest tightening. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t shucking _think_. Blood roared in his ears, panic coursing through his veins as his eyes burned with tears. _They couldn’t be dead. They couldn’t be. Not Newt. Not Newt -_

There was a melodic _plink! plink! plink!_ sound, and with a bright flash the floor returned and Newt, Minho and Gally were back, standing in their respective corners and patting themselves down, looking frightened out of their wits.

“What the hell happened!” Thomas shouted. He rushed over to Newt, clamping his hands down on his shoulders, his heart twisting at the horror on his face. “Newt! Come on, talk to me! What happened?!”

Newt looked like he was about to throw up. “I don’t know, I don’t know! I think we died or something!”

There was the heavy stomp of boots above them.

“What the shuck _now_?!” Minho asked weakly.

“Hold tight, chaps!”

A scruffy man in a cowboy hat pulled open a trapdoor on the top of the cage and jumped down to join them, landing nimbly near Minho. Reaching out, he yanked down a lever on the wall, one Thomas hadn’t seen previously. “That’ll keep the floor locked for you,” the man told them nonchalantly.

Gally looked livid beneath the ashen tint to his face. “You couldn’t have turned up ten seconds ago?!”

His chest still heaving, Thomas dug his fingers into the wall to steady himself, the elevator still impossibly rocketing upwards. “Who are you?” he gasped.

The man’s face lit up. “Doctor Bravestone! Nigel Billingsly, at your service. I have been so anxious for your arrival.”

“No, _who_ are you?” Minho asked. “You just landed in the middle of a shucking elevator shaft!”

Nigel looked at him. “Professor Shelly Oberon!” he cried happily. “Thank goodness you’re here. I have been so anxious for your arrival.”

Confused silence followed the repetition even as Nigel continued to look at them pleasantly. Minho frowned. “Why the hell isn’t he answering anything?”

“I think he’s an NPC,” Thomas informed them. “A non-player character. He’ll only have a limited set of responses he can choose from.”

“Sure he does. Oi, mate!” Newt called irritably. “Can you tell us what the bloody hell is going on?”

Nigel, however, only smiled cheerfully at him. “Ruby Roundhouse, Killer of Men! What a joy it is to see you again.”

“Sure it is,” Gally huffed.

Nigel turned his head, beaming. “My dear Mouse! It has been a long time!”

Gally started, taken aback. “Moose,” he corrected quickly. “The name’s Moose.”

“No, my good fellow,” Nigel said. “I assure you, it is indeed Mouse, a nickname given for your minute stature and adorable manner.”

Thomas glanced at Newt, both of them biting down on their lips to keep from smiling. Minho had a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Shut it,” Gally huffed. He glared daggers at Thomas. “And learn to read, will you?”

Thomas raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, his smile finally breaking free. “Look, Nigel - sir - why are we here?”

“Jumanji is in great peril,” Nigel informed him gravely. “It’s all documented in the letter I sent you. Perhaps you should read it.”

They all knew it wasn’t a suggestion. Thomas glanced down, checking his pockets. “I - but - there’s nothing here!”

“You’ve got it somewhere, Tommy.”

“No, I don’t.”

“He’s a game character!” Minho cried. “Why would he lie?”

“I don’t know -”

“Just check again -”

“I don’t have a letter!” Thomas finally shouted, throwing his hands in the air.

There was an envelope in his grasp.

Gally shook his head. “You never know what’s going on,” he muttered.

Thomas was visibly floundering. “It - it wasn’t there a second ago -” he stuttered.

“Come on, open it!” Newt cried.

With shaking hands, Thomas slit the letter open, his eyes skimming across the delicate, cursive handwriting. “ _Doctor Bravestone; I wish I were contacting you under better circumstances, but Jumanji is in grave danger ..._ ”

Suddenly, they were no longer standing in a green field; they were sweeping across the land, disembodied, watching a scene unfold before them, people moving, talking, twisting.

“What the shuck now?” Gally growled, his voice audible but his body invisible.

“Cut scene. Backstory and all that stuff,” Thomas told him.

“Nerd.”

_“A terrible disease has swept across our lands,” Nigel told them. “It attacks the brain in a violent, unpredictable manner, transforming those infected into monsters before everyone’s very eyes.”_

Horror rocketed through Thomas as he was confronted with images of zombies; of humans twisted beyond recognition, their eyes gorged out, black tar drooling from their lips, black veins spiderwebbing across rotting flesh.

_“Some of the inhabitants of the land, a people known as the Right Arm, brewed a cure that could save humanity, but the feared commander of an isolated community known only as WCKD, Janson, took it from them, keeping it in his hideout in the Last City, where he can use it for his own selfish reasons. Without it, the rest of the world will fall into chaos and perish.”_

“Shuck,” Minho murmured.

_“Even as I write this letter, I fear for the fate of Jumanji. Please, Doctor Bravestone, you and your companions are our last hope.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading another one!!
> 
> This one was so much fun to write. The body swap oH MY SKSKSKSK let me know your thoughts!! I was cracking up writing it, just imagining their reactions to ending up in different bodies.
> 
> And now we have the story of the game, the adventure that Thomas, Newt, Minho and Gally have ahead of them. (Okay, Nigel is one of my FAVES!! Also because he is played by Rhys Darby and he is amazing. His dialogue/interactions make me laugh so much)


	3. The Glade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing like crazy, I've had so much motivation thanks to all of you!! Hope you enjoy this next bit :D xx

“Right, then!” Nigel called.

The vivid images vanishing, Thomas jolted, looking around in bewilderment, Newt clutching his arm. The lift had stopped, and above them the lid of the cage was open, sunlight streaming down on them.

“Here is your map,” Nigel said, passing it to Minho before turning back to Thomas. “The mission for you is just at hand. Retrieve the cure, and heal the land. If you wish to leave the game, you must save Jumanji and call out its name.” He smiled. “Good luck, my dear fellow, and remember the sequence: seven, one, five, two, six, four, eight, three . ”

Thomas started. “Huh?”

“The mission for you is just at hand -”

“He’s just repeating himself now,” Newt muttered. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

One by one, they clambered out of the metal cage.

“Woah,” Minho gasped.

They were standing in a clearing the size of several football fields, and surrounding them on all sides were gargantuan stone walls, dark grey and covered in strands of ivy. There were also trees, forests, huts ... Thomas turned in a slow circle, craning his neck, taking in every detail as fast as he could.

Newt gave a low whistle. “Bugger me.”

With the clanking of metal that made them all jump, the lift began to descend back into the black pit, Nigel waving pleasantly to them.

Gally swore. “Aren’t you gonna help us, slinthead?!”

“Remember!” Nigel’s voice hollered up to them as he disappeared into the darkness. “If you wish to leave the game, you must save Jumanji and call out its name!”

And then he was gone.

Thomas scratched the back of his neck. “I guess that’s that, then,” he muttered.

“Woah, I’ve got a tattoo on my arm!” Minho exclaimed, twisting his wrist to look. “Two lines. Would ya look at that? Sick.”

Newt turned his own hand over. “Two lines.”

“Huh. I’ve got three,” Thomas said, frowning.

Gally suddenly made a choked sound, staring at the lines on his wrist, and realisation slammed into Thomas like a brick wall. _Oh. Oh no no no -_

“They’re lives,” Gally announced shakily. “The three of us fell through the floor and ... re-spawned, I guess?” When Thomas stared, the coldness returned to his eyes. “What? You aren’t the only one here who plays video games.”

“So we just finish this game and then we go home, yeah?” Newt said with forced ease, rubbing at the markings on his wrist. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“ _Shouldn’t be too hard_?” Gally repeated. “Newt, we just dropped through a giant hole in the floor and died!”

Newt’s face paled at the reminder.

“This isn’t going to be easy! This game is clearly gonna try kill us every step of the way! And what happens when those lives are gone? We’re dead; game over!”

Minho stepped between them pointedly. “Well, whatever happens, at least we’ve got these badass avatars to help us out.” His eyes glinted. “Especially you, Newtie. You look smoking.”

Newt snorted, pushing the long red hair out of his eyes an umpteenth time. “Remind me again, what did that shank call me? Killer of men?”

That shut Minho up. Thomas smirked.

“Don’t think I’m not buggin’ mad at you either, Thomas,” Newt told him. “Of course _you_ would find some bloody way to get us stuck in a video game.”

“Glad I’m not the only one who’s shucking pissed!” Gally roared, slamming his palms against Thomas’s torso and shoving him backwards.

A screen popped up into the air, transparent and full of text. All of them stopped.

“What the hell!” Minho yelled.

“Strengths,” Newt drawled thoughtfully, scratching his chin as he read the display. “Speed, muscle, climbing ... boomerang?”

“In my defense, I’ve never thrown one in my life,” Thomas muttered.

Curiosity swept across Newt’s face. “How did you get that?” he demanded excitably.

Thomas glanced down. “I, uh, I think Gally hit my chest. My - my pec or something.”

“Touch the boob!” Minho yelled, reaching out.

Newt slapped his hand away. “Shuck off,” he said, but his eyes were gleaming with barely hidden amusement. Clearing his throat, he slapped a hand near his - Ruby’s - collarbone and a screen popped up.

“Weaknesses ... the Flare,” Newt murmured.

“What’s the Flare?” Thomas asked.

“Your video game, Tommy. You tell me.”

“Dance fighting?!” Minho exclaimed, reading through Newt’s list of strengths. “What the hell is that!”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Gally brought up his own screen, frowning at the words. “Weapons valet?”

Minho snorted. “You carry all the gear in that backpack, shank.”

“And I think you grab them when I need them?” Thomas supplied weakly.

Gally looked livid. “Stupid shucking game,” he snarled under his breath.

Thomas bit the inside of his cheek. “I mean, you’ve got other positives. Zoology? Aircraft?”

Gally flung his arms out, looking around. “Do you _see_ a plane anywhere?!”

“I got cartography,” Minho announced, glancing at his own list. “Paleontology ... hmm, archaeology ...” Suddenly, his expression shifted in despair. “Seriously! Who the shuck is this character! No endurance?”

“Better than mine. _Look_ ,” Gally told them, momentarily forgetting to be angry at them. “One of my weaknesses is _cake_.”

They peered at his screen. “And speed. And strength,” Minho pointed out.

“Yeah, but _cake_?!” Gally kicked at the dirt. “What the shuck! And Thomas doesn’t have _any_ weaknesses, how is that fair?”

Thomas guiltily glanced at his own screen again, staring at the gaping space beneath his weaknesses column.

“Shove off. It’s not like we could choose,” Newt reminded Gally.

“ _He_ did,” Gally growled.

Thomas cleared his throat. “Guys, we need to get going. Look, the faster we do this, the faster we go home, alright? We’ll go to this Last City, get the cure, and save Jumanji.”

Gally kicked a stone angrily. “You’re gonna owe me, Greenie, once this is all over. For all the klunk you’ve put me through.”

Unfortunately, Thomas knew he had a point on that one, even if their venture into the video game had been unintentional. Still, it was no reason for him to act like a slinthead the rest of the time.

“Minho?” Newt called. “You’re our cartographer.”

“Right.” Minho pulled out the map and began to study it. “Let’s see ... the map says this field here is called the Glade,” he informed them. “And if I’m reading this right -” He looked up and pointed, “- our way forward is through there. Through the maze.”

On the far side of the meadow, there was a gap between the towering slabs of stone. Beyond it was a dark passageway stretching away from them, clouded in shadow.

“ _Maze_? You’re sure?” Thomas asked, leaning over his shoulder. His mouth fell open.

The paper was blank.

“Dude, you’re gonna catch flies,” Minho said, raising his eyebrows. “It’s just a map.”

Newt shook his head. “No, Min. It’s just we can’t see anything.”

“He’s right,” Gally replied shortly.

Minho looked between them, then back at the parchment. A grin split his face, his eyes glinting. “Look at my poor babies, having to rely on Papa Min to show them the path to enlightenment.”

“Bugger off,” Newt laughed, shoving him sideways.

Grinning, Thomas clapped Minho on the shoulder - and accidentally sent him plowing face-first into the ground.

“What the shuck, man?!” Minho yelled, the sound muffled against the dirt. Newt _howled_ with laughter, clutching his stomach.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Thomas cried, staring at his hands in horror. “Oh, my god -”

“It’s one of your strengths, Greenie,” Gally told him, rolling his eyes. However, there was the unmistakeable strain of laughter to his voice. “Muscle.”

As they pulled Minho to his feet again - Newt himself barely able to stand, his eyes shining with mirth - Thomas knew it was going to take a while to get used to their avatars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strengths and weaknesses, whoo!! I changed a few of them around, Seaplane is not going to be making an appearance so Gally got the aircraft trait ... let's see what happens there? In my head he gained a pilot license while out studying exotic animals.
> 
> Writing the banter has been one of the best things. Like the bit at the end of the chapter!! Hope it made you laugh as much as it did for me.


	4. What Lurks in the Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's made me so happy reading all your comments, thank you so so much for all your feedback!! Without further ado, here is the next (action packed) chapter!! Enjoy xx

They traipsed through the long grass.

Newt craned his neck, looking up at the dark strings of ivy clinging to the towering walls, draping across it. “Of course it has to look so bloody ominous,” he muttered.

Minho nodded in agreement. Reaching up, he clapped Thomas on the shoulder. “You first, Tomboy.”

“You’ve got the map, Minho,” Thomas pointed out. “A map I can’t read.”

“Yeah, and you got us stuck here. Therefore, you don’t get to decide.”

Thomas sighed; he had a point. He stared dubiously at the threshold, at the worn line separating the grass and the dark passageway, and took a step forward.

The moment his boot touched the stone floor, a fierce drumbeat echoed around them, the same one that had called them to the game in the first place.

“That’s not good,” Thomas murmured.

Minho stared at him. “Ya think?”

The air fell silent once again.

Newt swallowed thickly, shoving the long strands of red out of his eyes again. “Let’s keep moving,” he said quietly. No one argued.

They ventured cautiously into the labyrinth, Minho checking his map every so often; the picture began to shift as they moved in the right direction. They traversed corridor after corridor, the stone endless before them.

“Seven, one, five, two, six, four, eight, three,” Thomas repeated under his breath. “Seven, one, five -”

“Why are you even bothering?” Gally snapped.

Thomas glared at him. “I thought you played video games? When they drop hints like that, they usually mean something important.”

Gally scoffed, shifting the backpack on his shoulders. “We’ll see.”

Suddenly, there was a thunderous roaring sound, the walls shaking around them, showering them with dust. Abandoning their stoic facades, the four boys found themselves pressed back to back, giving them a full circle view of any approaching dangers. Thomas felt Newt’s arm pressed against his own like lightning.

“I don’t like this,” Gally muttered. “I don’t like this one bit.”

Newt’s face drained of colours. “Uh, guys,” he choked out.

Something was emerging out of the gloom at the far end of the passage.

_Click-click-clack. Hisssss ..._

“Oh, my god,” Thomas uttered weakly.

It was the horrific culmination of every single one of their nightmares combined. Grotesque could barely begin to describe it. Some sort of hard shell covered the top of its thorax and abdomen while its underbelly was grey and pulsing. The outer armour was scattered with thick yellow hairs, bristling and protruding. Beneath slits of two dark, multifaceted eyes, its jaws were open in a ferocious snarl. Eight spindly legs stuck out from its throbbing body ... and Thomas was horrified to see the grey flash of _metal_ between the joints.

Gally made a choked sound. “That’s a Griever. Metal-flesh spider hybrids with hundreds of razor sharp teeth,” he rattled off in one breath, his face pale. “It has a retractable steel-link tail with a prong on the end used to attack its victims from above. Be careful of the forward limbs; they contain two-foot long stingers, and the injected substance can cause severe hallucinations, memory alterations and extreme rage.” He blinked in shock, throwing his hands up. “How the shuck did I know all that?!”

“You’re a zoologist, Gal!” Minho shouted in his ear.

The creature shrieked piercingly. Newt slammed his hands down over his ears. Thomas gritted his teeth.

“We gotta run!” Gally roared.

“Minho, which way?!” Newt yelled.

“One second, one second!” Minho stared at the map, his eyes frantically sweeping over the parchment. Finally he looked up. “It’s this way, come on, come on!”

Thomas, Newt and Gally sprinted wildly after Minho, hurtling down an adjacent passage. Newt felt wild, hysterical with terror, but he focused on the strength, the sheer fearlessness in Thomas’s expression; it gave him courage. _Left. Right. Right. Left. Left. Right. Left._ It was a blur in his mind.

The world thundered around them, another roar quaking the sky; the Griever was catching up, impossibly fast. If Thomas listened carefully, he could hear the sinister _click-click-clack_ amidst the shrieks and snarls. He glanced at his companions, gritting his teeth. “Can you move any faster, Min? Gally?!”

“Tell that to _this_ guy!” Minho roared over his shoulder. “Six months I spent at the gym - six _months_ \- and I get stuck with Shrek!”

“Even Shrek moved faster than you are now!” Newt yelled back. “Same with you, Gal!”

“Shuck you; speed is one of my weaknesses!” Gally howled.

A fierce shriek dragged them back to reality. They skidded around a corner, then another, and another, grabbing onto the edges of the stone to launch themselves forward, all of them panting, their lungs clawing for air.

Realisation struck Thomas. “Look in your backpack!”

“What, _now_?!” Gally cried.

“You have my weapons!”

Snarling, Gally heaved the pack around onto his front, rummaging through with one hand as he ran. “Here, try this!” he suddenly yelled, tossing a boomerang to Thomas.

He barely caught it. His expression lit up; the weapon was one of his strengths. “Thanks!”

“Now get to work saving our sorry asses!”

“With a shucking _boomerang_?!” Minho howled.

“What are _you_ gonna do? Bore them to death with paleontology?” Newt shot back.

“Dinosaurs are cooler than you’ll ever be, _salamander_!”

“They both existed at the same time, you idiot!”

“Fine, you fossil!”

_Strengths. Muscle._ Shoving the boomerang into his belt, Thomas sprinted forward. “I’ve got an idea!”

Minho blanched as Thomas grabbed his shoulders, his grip frighteningly strong. “Wait -!”

Without warning, Thomas threw Minho skywards; he went soaring into the air with an unmanly scream and crash-landed sixty feet up on top of the wall.

Thomas, Newt and Gally skidded to a halt. “Newt, you’re next!” Thomas yelled, planting his hands on Newt’s - Ruby’s - waist.

Newt inhaled sharply as his rough hands brushed the bare skin at his midriff.

“Save it for later!” Gally snarled, glancing back over his shoulder in terror; they could all hear the sounds of the Griever rapidly approaching.

“See you in a second,” Thomas murmured. Gritting his teeth, he launched Newt into the air. He yelped, landing nimbly beside Minho a second later.

The Griever rounded the corner. “Come on, come on!” Gally yelled.

Seizing his upper arms, Thomas threw him towards the sky; Gally landed flat on his backside on the top of the wall in a flurry of swear words. Gritting his teeth, Thomas grabbed his boomerang again, gripping it fiercely. “Come on!” he goaded. 

He threw it as hard as he could, the piece of wood cartwheeling towards the oncoming Griever before catapulting off in another direction, missing it completely. Shrieking piercingly as if it were laughing at him, the creature charged.

“Get up here, Tomboy!” Minho shouted down at him.

Thomas grabbed frantically at the vines to pull himself up, but the next thing they knew the wicked tail of the Griever had snapped out, seizing him; he cried out in agony as one of the prongs speared him through.

“NO!” Minho roared; Newt made a choked sound of horror.

With one final agonised look at them, Thomas vanished in a flash of red light.

“TOMMY!” Newt screamed, half hanging over the side of the wall.

Minho grabbed the back of Newt’s leather halter top. “Don’t you dare!” he roared. “Come on, slim yourself down -!”

“He’ll be back!” Gally shouted.

_Plink!_

Their gazes shot upwards as a figure appeared in the sky, falling, moving closer, closer.

“Is that - is that ...?” Newt trailed off weakly. Gally’s face paled.

Minho raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He gasped. “Oh, _shuck_!”

Thomas slammed to the top of the wall beside them, losing his balance and toppling over, his chest heaving, his face vaguely green.

“Tommy!” Newt cried, crashing to his knees beside him, wincing as Ruby’s bare skin scraped the stone. He grabbed at his arms, his shoulders, needing to touch, to reassure himself he was actually there. “Oh, my bloody - are you okay? Thomas?”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” he groaned, shakily pushing himself up onto all fours.

A thunderous roar shook the world around them. “Too bad, we gotta go!” Gally yelled.

Newt grabbed Thomas around the waist, hauling him to his feet. “Come on, Tommy,” he gasped.

And then they were running, stumbling along the wall. When they reached the end, they scrambled down the thick vines of ivy clinging to the stone, hitting the ground running as they plunged deeper into the maze; corridor after corridor, left, right, right, left, left, right -

They bolted through another narrow, towering passage and burst out into an open dirt field criss-crossed with sky-high columns of orangey-brown metal.

Newt’s face lit up. “We must be near the end of it now!”

Much to their horror, the moment the words left his mouth, the gargantuan rusting pillars began to _move_ , swinging themselves around ninety degrees on their axis to form rows of walls.

“Move it, move it!” Minho yelled, the map clutched in his hands in a death grip. “Come on, shanks, let’s move it!”

Newt chanced a glance over his shoulder, his eyes widening. Gally was falling behind; far, _far_ behind. “Gally, hurry up!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” He yelped, barely missing being flung aside by a swinging wall of orange.

Thomas immediately dropped back, keeping pace with him even as his gut told him to just _get the hell out of there_. “I’ll carry you!”

Gally swore. “You will not - no - don’t you shucking dare, Greenie!”

“Too late!” Thomas yelled, grabbing the straps of Finbar’s backpack and throwing Gally over his shoulder.

Minho glanced back and grinned wolfishly. “Wish I had a camera!”

“Slim it!” Gally roared.

One after the other, they slipped between the walls. A path closed behind them, then another as they darted in a frantic zigzag pattern through the gaps after each other.

“Gaaaaah!” Thomas yelped, arms flailing as he nearly got swept aside.

“Go, go, go!” Minho roared. “MOVE!”

The noise around them was thunderous, clanking gears and shrieking metal as the ground thundered beneath their boots.

“There!” Gally shrieked in Thomas’s ear, pointing.

Ahead was a low doorway with a dark tunnel beyond. They surged forward into the blackness and emerged out into a gargantuan cavernous space. They were running along a wide catwalk; it stretched towards a jutting piece of stone across the far concrete wall, on which was a circular door as tall as they were.

They slammed against it, panting. The moment they touched it, a digital screen appeared on it - a line of dashes and a holographic keypad.

“It’s a code. Eight numbers!” Newt cried.

There was the shriek of a Griever behind them; it was lurking in the doorway, clicking and snarling, starting down the catwalk towards them; creeping, knowing they were trapped.

“Someone figure it out or we’re done for!” Minho shouted.

Gally’s eyes lit up. “Greenie! Thomas!” he yelled. “What was the sequence?!”

Thomas started. “I - uh - seven, one, five,” he garbled frantically, “two -”

There was a whooshing sound, and suddenly the boomerang came flying around the corner. It slammed into the Griever, the creature disappearing in a fiery explosion.

“Yeah, Tomboy!” Minho yelled, and Thomas grinned shakily.

“Is that it?” Newt asked quietly.

Another distant shriek answered his query.

“Come on, slowpoke; the sequence, the sequence!” Gally snapped.

Thomas shook his head clear. “Uh, five, two ... six, four, eight, three!”

The moment Newt punched the last digit in, the door dilated, twisting open in a star shape to reveal a gaping black hole. They surged through the opening and the wall spiraled shut, plunging the four of them into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW. So that was the maze level :D their first major monster, Gally having to put his trust in Thomas, another life lost ... wow it was busy. AND MORE NEWTMAS ACTION!!!! The banter between Newt and Minho about the dinosaurs is one of my fave lines of dialogue so far!!
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts on it!! Would love to hear what you thought of the blend of different scenes from the first movie. (Also, if you've been reading my other tmr fic Born to Run, you'll probably recognise a few of the descriptions haha.)
> 
> This fic is honestly so much fun to write, and it's so great to be able to share it with you all!! Please feel free to leave comments or kudos! <3


	5. A Save Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LET'S GO!!! :D

When the blackness lifted, they were standing in what by all appearances was a crowded cafeteria, with picnic benches and stalls around the space. People were talking, laughing, eating; it felt strangely safe.

“Rations!” a man on the far side of the room cried. He stood behind a counter, waving in their direction. “Get your rations!”

Gally looked around. “What the shuck is this place?”

“I think it’s like a checkpoint,” Thomas said. “A pause between levels. You can rest, eat -”

An exaggerated eye roll. “I know what a checkpoint is,” Gally snapped.

“So that maze must’ve been the first level of the game,” Newt pondered, scratching his chin.

“Nah, the elevator was the first,” Minho told him. “According to these map labels.”

Thomas barely paid attention to their conversations, his eyes instead drifting across the people around him. Everyone had indistinct, forgettable features; the moment Thomas turned away from one of the characters, he couldn’t even remember what they had looked like. It was disconcerting to say the least.

He flipped his wrist over, his brow furrowing. He now had only two solid black lines tattooed there.

Slender fingers wrapped gently around his wrist, drawing his attention. “Come on, Tommy,” Newt said with a small smile. “Let’s get some food. You look like you need it.”

Huffing out a laugh, Thomas nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Rations! Get your rations!” the call came again.

They hurried over to the counter and each received a portion of steaming food. Plonking themselves down at a nearby table, they enthusiastically dug in. Thomas sighed happily, taking a huge mouthful of the hot bun in his hands; it was soft and delicious. He could immediately feel his strength returning as he tore off another chunk.

Gally, however, stopped. He tentatively swallowed his mouthful, visibly forcing the food down. “Hey, shank!” he yelled towards the counter, his voice weirdly strangled. “You trying to poison us? It tastes like klunk!”

The man looked insulted. “That’s my famous pound cake,” he told them.

A pause.

“THAT’S CAKE!” Minho roared.

“You idiot!” Newt shouted at the same time.

“How was I supposed to know?!” Gally patted himself down, his face pale even with his darker skin. “What’s happening? Do I look the same? Am I shaking?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Thomas garbled, hands raised placatingly. “You’re just -”

And then Gally exploded.

Thomas, Newt and Minho were flung to the floor with the force of the blast. Debris went flying, tables splitting apart. The other characters in the room merely gave them a cursory glance and continued on their way, talking indiscernibly amongst themselves.

“What just happened?” Newt squeaked.

_Plink!_

In a bright flash of light, Gally appeared in front of them again, panting heavily and looking shellshocked. His eyes wide, he flipped his wrist over, staring at the single solid line left on his wrist. “Shuck!” he swore.

“Gally!” Thomas yelled.

Minho gripped his arm, Newt on his other side. “You okay, man?”

“Rations! Get your rations!” the man called again.

Gally looked livid. “You know what? Let’s just go! Let’s finish this shucking game and go home,” he growled.

The others couldn’t agree more.

Newt frowned. “Hey, was that door there before?”

A metal door had suddenly appeared on the other side of the room.

Glancing warily at one another, they made their way towards it, the crowds of people eerily parting for them. Hesitantly, Gally turned the handle and opened the door, all of them peering through the gap.

“It’s night,” Thomas observed quietly.

Beyond, the wind howled. He glanced down as sand swept across his boots.

Newt’s expression steeled. “Let’s go.”

They walked out into the frigid darkness awaiting them, the door closing behind them with a clang of finality.

“Oh, shuck,” Minho whispered. Thomas turned around and finally saw what he had, the leaden weight of dread dropping in his stomach like a stone.

The door had vanished, leaving them standing in a desert wasteland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little chapter!! Hope you're not too disappointed. Up next is the second level, so I'm putting a lot of energy into that one currently (and life has been getting in the way a little). This one was supposed to be a little break for our heroes, away from danger, but clearly Gally had other ideas!! This was a lot of fun to write, made me laugh a fair bit.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this little addition, hoping to have more up in the next few days. Let me know in the comments!! Kudos and feedback are greatly appreciated :D <3


	6. First Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some more Newt action?!?! Enjoy :D xx

The stars gleaming brilliantly overhead, they all paused to assess the situation. Or, rather, attempt not to panic at the sheer helplessness they were presented with.

Grit flew around them, swept up by the blustering winds, encrusting itself on every exposed part of their bodies - most notably Newt’s minimally dressed avatar. As the wind wrenched at the long strands of red, Newt wondered for the thousandth time that day if this was something else girls had to suffer all the time. He would have valued the educational experience if not for the headache he was getting with every new game level.

“Check the backpack,” Thomas finally said.

“And find _what_?” Gally growled.

It was Newt who rolled his eyes this time. “Flashlights, slinthead.”

The light from their torches did little to reveal more of their surroundings: sand, sand, and more sand, rising and falling in elegant dunes around them.

Minho peered at the map, his brow furrowed heavily. “Alright, shanks. This way.”

They clambered up the dune rising ahead of them, feet scrabbling for footholds in the soft, warm sand. They clutched at one another, dragging each other up the hill and stumbling down the other side, squinting against the wind.

“Alright, come on, keep going!” Thomas encouraged.

Gally pointed. “What’s that?” he shouted.

There was a rusting signpost stuck in the sand. Their torch beams flashed over the faded writing; no one breathed for a second.

_THE FLARE,_ the sign read.

“Oh, shuck,” Minho whispered.

_ERRATIC VIOLENCE, FITFUL MOTIONS, VOMITING, COUGHING, FEVER;_

_AVOID CONTACT WITH ANY INDIVIDUALS WITH SYMPTOMS;_

_CONTACT WCKD AUTHORITIES IMMEDIATELY._

Newt gulped, fingers lingering over the two lines on his wrist.

Thomas reached out, gently grabbing his - Ruby’s - arm, hoping to comfort him in some way. He felt a pang of guilt again for getting them all stuck in the game. “C’mon,” he said quietly. “We should keep moving.”

They staggered down another dune together, careful not to stray far from one another. Suddenly, a half-buried building loomed out of the darkness, keeling over in the sand.

Thomas surged forward, everyone else following. A moment later, Minho, Gally and Newt were gathered around him, staring into the dark hole. “What the shuck is this?” Gally asked.

They stared at the long strip of paneled glass before them, all of it covered by dustings of sand except for one section that had been smashed in, jagged shards of glass surrounding the edges.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Newt asked.

Minho shook his head. “There’s nowhere else to go in this shucking wasteland.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Thomas jumped through the gap, his body disappearing into the darkness.

“Greenie!” Gally yelled.

Newt rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he muttered, plunging after him.

He sunk into several feet of sand and was sent sliding down a steep indoor dune. “Okay, come on!” he heard Minho yell distantly above him.

Newt was surprised by the sheer agility of his character; she moved with such grace, even when wading through ankle-deep sand. He passed Thomas, springing forward and landing firmly on a grimy tiled floor.

“Come on!” Thomas echoed, waving to Minho and Gally as they jumped down into the sand.

A pounding rhythm split the deafening silence. Thomas got such a fright he face-planted in the sand, tumbling head over heels.

“I hate those shucking drums!” Minho yelled.

Quiet fell again.

“Check the map, the map!” Newt gasped.

Minho and Gally hurried - well, stumbled - down the dune towards them. Newt reached down and grabbed Thomas’s hand. “Come on, Tommy.”

Thomas felt heat spread across his cheeks as he clambered to his feet again, still conscious of the sheer amount of space his muscular avatar was occupying. The wry grin that met his own sheepish expression didn’t seem to match the girl’s face, but it was undeniably Newt’s smile.

Crowding together, Minho held up the map while Gally shone a torch on the scrap of parchment.

“What does it say?” Thomas panted.

“Okay ... it says ‘The Barren Plains’ ... there’s a weird building - I think that’s where we are now -”

Turning, Thomas flashed his own light around.

They were in a foyer of sorts, wide and open with barely identifiable tiled floors. There was rubble everywhere, slabs of stone littering the space and metal pipes jutting out amidst the chaos. He didn’t know how long the structure had been standing, but he assumed it was at least a few years if the thick layer of sand coating the place was anything to go by, blown in during the sandstorms.

He squinted into the darkness. Beyond the fallen blocks of concrete, he could see decaying columns etched with designs and motifs, shimmering with dulled bronze inlays. The walls were lined with grates and roller doors at regular intervals, faded and graffitied signs hanging limply from above.

“Looks pretty abandoned,” Newt grimaced.

“Probably haunted,” Minho agreed.

The words had barely left his mouth when a scream pierced the silence.

Gally made a choked sound. “What the shuck was that?”

Thomas gulped audibly. “It’s the start of the next level.” Squaring his shoulders, he beckoned, starting to head further in. “We gotta go,” he said urgently. “We gotta keep moving; scope out this place as much as possible before - before the -”

“Before the boss battle shows up,” Gally finished grimly.

o-o-o-o-o

They crept down an escalator, the stairs immobile and covered in debris, slabs of stone and tile strewn about. Every footstep was uncomfortably loud in the suffocating silence as they wandered cautiously across the atrium. Thomas’s eyes drifted to the domed ceiling high above their heads, the glass fractured and leaving only the metal framework. The distant howl of the wind was still audible.

The space was cluttered with belongings. Newt sucked in a sharp breath. Many of the items around them looked _personal_ ; a time capsule. Clothing, books, dirty and ragged soft toys that had seen better days, stowed beneath sagging pieces of canvas. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, as if it had not been touched in years; a time capsule.

It was eerie, unsettling ... like maybe they shouldn’t have been there; like they were touching a grave.

Minho picked a jacket off the floor, shaking it free of dust. “Looks like people lived here.”

Newt swung his flashlight beam across the room, his brow furrowed as he took in the various belongings littering the floor. “Where are they now?” he wondered softly.

Another piercing shriek sounded.

Everyone whirled around. “What the hell?” Gally uttered, clutching his bag straps.

Minho swallowed audibly. Newt went rigid with mounting anxiety. He could suddenly hear distant movements, faint noises that had his ears straining. The place was no longer unnervingly silent.

A thunderous roar echoed through the building. Thomas swung his flashlight around. Shapes were emerging out of the darkness, figures charging towards them, stumbling, screeching, clawing; _three - five - no, seven, eight -_

A horde of people surged into the passage, dripping tar and covered in monstrous dark veins, eyes wild and crazed, limbs jerking and flailing.

Stumbling backwards, Newt’s mouth fell open in horror. “Oh, _shit_!”

Horror swept across Minho’s face. “Run!”

“Which way?” Thomas asked, frantically eyeing the map.

“To hell with that, shank! Just go!”

Clumping together, they sprinted down the atrium, their boots crashing against the tiles in a wild, haphazard rhythm, matching the thunder of their beating hearts. They charged up the escalator, taking the steps two and three at a time as they hurtled back towards their starting point.

Newt’s boot had barely touched the immobile step, and suddenly he was flying, Ruby’s body folding elegantly as he flipped through the air, landing agilely near the top of the stairs.

“What the hell!” Gally yelped.

Thomas stared, his jaw agape.

Newt whirled around, seeing how they had all stopped in their astonishment. “Bloody move it!” he howled, red hair flying.

“Whatever you say, princess!” Minho jabbed.

The others swarming around him, Newt rounded the top of the escalator, grabbing the railing and effortlessly launching himself forward as they hurtled down the next passage. Shuck, he couldn’t _breathe_ -

“Protect Gally!” Thomas yelled to Newt and Minho. They both nodded in understanding.

“I don’t need your protection!” Gally shot back.

“You’re on your last life, shuckface!” Minho roared.

His face paling, Gally finally nodded.

They sprinted down corridor after corridor, the passages stretching for an eternity as they found themselves careening through the abandoned site. Screams echoed around them, chilling them to their cores. It was the Maze all over again, Grievers snapping at their heels.

Thomas threw a glance over his shoulder. His face paled even further. “Move, move!”

“Let’s go, go, go!” Minho roared.

A figure lurched out of the blackness, a woman with one of her arms ripped off. With a sharp squeak of horror, Newt slammed Ruby’s boot into her stomach, bile surging up his throat as he felt bones crunching nauseatingly. The monstrous excuse for a human crashed to the floor, her head cracking against a block of fallen concrete; blood spurted.

Realisation slammed into Thomas, panic flooding him. “The Flare!” he choked out, remembering the cut scene. “Stay back, Newt!”

“Don’t have to bloody tell me twice!”

Flashlight beams ricocheted chaotically around Newt, blinding him. The walls were pressing in, suffocating him, his heart stuttering at the flashes of faces on the faded posters around her, looming. Screams echoed from all directions, inescapable.

“Go!” Minho bellowed.

The air exploded with glass as a figure crashed through one of the shop windows they tore past. His arm flying up to shield his head, Thomas looked back, his heart crashing to a stop in paralysing terror. “No -!”

“Newt! Newt!” both Gally and Minho were yelling.

“Guys, help!” Newt screamed.

The infected man hung over him, tearing at him. Newt had his hands jammed against his throat, shoving him as far back as possible. The man snarled, black spittle hitting Newt’s face - and sank his teeth into his skin.

Newt _screamed_ in agony.

Thomas smashed his boot into the man’s ribs, sending the monstrous figure crashing through the glass barrier and down into the abyss. His shrieks died within seconds.

They all crowded around. “Newt!” Thomas yelled as he grabbed his arms, his chest so tight with terror he could barely breathe. “Oh, my god - Newt, bud, talk to me!”

Thrashing about on the floor, Newt had a hand clamped to the side of his neck. “He bit me, he bit me!” he choked out, visibly panicking.

Horror shot through Thomas. The Flare was one of Newt’s weaknesses. He looked at Minho and Gally, but they looked just as terrified.

A second later, Newt disappeared in a flash of red, vanishing from beneath Thomas’s fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwahaha a cliffhanger!!  
> Hope you all enjoyed this one. Newt saw a little more action here, and he's got plenty more coming up - I'm trying to spread it out a little to give all the characters equal awesome moments. (The title is named for first contact with the infected people).
> 
> Thank you for your patience! I've been working on two chapters at once, hence the delay on this one. I'm combing through my other tmr fic to help me combine movie events with video game elements smoothly. I'm also trying to find a balance, having enough action to make it interesting but not dragging it out until it's boring. Hope I'm doing okay???!
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments!! Would love the feedback. I truly hope this is living up to all your expectations, I'm loving writing it - it's a change of pace from my other more intense tmr fics, a bit of a breather! (And a huge thank you to every single one of you still reading this, and for the wonderful and kind comments you've left me so far. It's put a huge smile on my face.)
> 
> Feel free to tell me below what you'd like to see more of! Anything specific? I can try and work it in!
> 
> Kudos is also greatly appreciated to keep me inspired <3 :D


	7. Electrified

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this one! Haha, part of the reason for the last cliffhanger was because I was completely stuck. But here we go! :D xx

“NEWT!” Thomas screamed, grasping at thin air.

_Plink!_

There was a distant scream, and a second later a figure smashed through the glass ceiling high over their heads, showering them with shards. His heart in his throat, Thomas lunged for the railing and thrust his arm out, barely catching the figure hurtling past. “Gotcha!”

Newt clung to his hand for dear life. “Thanks, Tommy!” he gasped as Thomas hauled him to safety.

“You good?!” Minho shouted.

Newt jerked his head. “I think so!” he gasped, hands frantically clutching Thomas’s arms.

With a piercing shriek, more figures emerged out of the gloom, charging down the corridor towards them.

Gally stumbled backwards, trampling on Minho’s foot. “We gotta move!” he yelled.

They bolted, heartbeats and footsteps crashing in sync. Thomas chanced a glance over his shoulder, his blood running cold; they were catching up, moving impossibly fast; _inhuman_ in every possible way.

“Keep going!” Newt yelled.

Minho pointed at something up ahead. “There’s a door!” he hollered.

Gally was the first to reach it. He grabbed it and wrenched it open. “Come on, move it!” he shrieked.

They barreled past him, screams ringing in their ears - and found themselves in the middle of the desert again. Much to their horror, the entire mall vanished the moment Gally slammed the door shut behind them, gone between one blink and the next as if it had never existed at all.

Déjà vu slammed into them like a freight train.

“Bloody hell, did we die?!” Newt garbled. “Are we back at the start?!”

Gally shook his head. “No. Look,” he said, pointing.

Set amidst a line of mountains in the distance, they could see a series of bright, flickering lights, perhaps a mile from their current position.

Minho squinted at the map. “He’s right. That’s the way we gotta go.”

An earsplitting crackling sound had them hurtling around to look. His jaw dropping open, Thomas stumbled backwards into Gally, who didn’t even complain; he had also gone rigid in horror.

“What the hell is that?” Newt squeaked.

It was a thunderstorm of terrifying proportions on the opposite horizon, thick and angry black clouds still visible against the night sky, illuminated by jagged bolts of lightning arcing between heaven and earth.

And the storm was rolling directly towards them at an unfathomably high speed.

“The levels are becoming harder!” Gally yelled. “We got two challenges, shanks!”

Thomas flung his arm out, blindly grabbing at Newt’s jacket, the roar of thunder growing louder with every passing second. “Let’s go. We gotta go. Come on!”

They took off, their boots crunching in the hard sand. The plain stretched out before them, hundreds of feet of desert between them and the lights; it suddenly felt endless. The storm was rapidly catching up, lightning already snapping at their heels as thunder roared over their heads.

“Hurry!” Newt yelled.

It was chaos; Thomas couldn’t see properly, couldn’t hear anything. He was running blind, sprinting towards the faint lights he could see in the distance, his friends around him illuminated by the brief, blinding flashes of lightning. The air was filled with the acrid smell of scorched sand.

Newt grabbed Thomas’s arm, frantically tugging him to a stop. “Wait!” he gasped.

Minho and Gally crashed into them, all four boys stumbling. “What the hell!” Gally yelled.

“Shucking _moron_ ,” Minho swore, watching the sky frantically.

Newt waved his hands, gesturing frantically at the storm. “Bloody - just _look_ -”

Thomas wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be seeing. “Uh ...”

“Can’t see nothing, salamander,” Minho said.

Newt glared daggers at him; it was somehow far more terrifying on Ruby Roundhouse’s face. “It’s a pattern. You gotta - you gotta count the beats. Brilliant,” he breathed. He coughed. “I mean, it’s video game logic. But still. Bloody brilliant.” He swung around, his eyes shining. “We can make it.”

Thomas, Minho and Gally all stared at him blankly.

“Just trust me on this, alright?” Newt persisted.

Thomas already knew he would trust him - and follow him - to the ends of the earth.

Finally, Gally cleared his throat. “Lead the way, Newt.”

Nodding once, Newt took off. This time, the others followed him without question; followed him into the crackling arena. With the brief pounding of drums, the deadly bolts of electricity were upon them.

“RIGHT!” Newt suddenly yelled.

They threw themselves sideways. A bolt of lightning hit the ground just off to Thomas’s left, his vision flaring white for several incapacitating seconds. He gasped, stumbling forward. He felt Minho’s hand on his arm briefly, steadying him as he regained his vision.

His eyes fixed skywards, Newt elegantly ducked and dived around the bolts in a deadly dance, weaving, leaping, red hair flying, shouting commands at them with militaristic precision, a fierce determination on his face.

Thomas was in awe, and for all his trouble just about got hit by a bolt of lightning as it plunged towards the ground, barely hearing Newt’s order. “Woah, woah!”

“Focus, Tommy!” Newt yelled.

Thomas tried to concentrate, to see what Newt could, but he didn’t know what exactly he should be looking for. He was blinded by intermittent flashes, dodging left and right as Newt ordered, the ground heaving beneath his boots.

He didn’t feel so much like Bravestone in that moment. Running through that desert, through that lightning storm, he was simply Thomas, a high schooler scared shitless by the world he had suddenly found himself in.

His hand snapped out - or maybe Newt’s did first - and suddenly they were holding on for dear life, fingers locked in a death grip. A different kind of lightning shot through Thomas, every nerve crackling, fizzling, alive with electricity.

But now was not the time to think about that.

“Newt!” Thomas howled. “What the hell’s the pattern?!”

“You bloody know it already!”

“What?!”

Thunder rolled. Newt pointed at the churning sky as they ran. “One, two, three - LEFT!”

They careened sideways a split second before another bolt hit the ground - just where they had been standing a moment earlier.

“Next it’ll be seven,” Newt panted, “then one count, then five -”

“It’s the shucking maze sequence!” Minho roared victoriously from behind them. “That Nigel guy told you to remember it, shank!”

Thomas’s eyes widened in realisation. At another boom of thunder, he began to count. “... Four, five, six, seven -”

“LEFT!” Newt shrieked.

They threw themselves sideways just in time.

“Go left for the odd numbers,” Newt shouted over the noise, “and right for the even ones!”

Thomas gasped in relief, laughter bursting from his mouth as he squeezed Newt’s hand. Maybe, maybe they had a chance.

“Seven, one, five, two, six, four, eight, three,” he muttered. “Seven, one, five -”

“Let’s go!” Minho roared. “We’re getting closer!”

He was right; an immense structure was starting to come into focus out of the blackness, illuminated by the brief yet blinding flashes of lightning. It was a massive wall built into the mountains, large slates of metal riveted together to create an impenetrable barrier.

“Keep going!” Gally yelled; Minho was dragging him along to keep up his speed.

They reached a minefield of haphazardly strewn oil barrels and abandoned vehicles. They each went separate ways to avoid the obstacles; Thomas hurtled off to one side as Newt performed an expert flip over a pile of scrap without blinking an eye, continuing to scream directions at them.

“There’s a door!” Gally screeched over the cacophony, pointing up ahead at the hinged slab of steel at the base of the wall.

“Get inside, go!” Thomas yelled back, waving his arm.

Thunder roared deafeningly in their ears. The ground heaved beneath their feet again, sending them stumbling.

“RIGHT!” Minho shouted at the same time as Newt, all of them diving sideways.

The world quaked. Minho grinned suddenly. “I think I’m getting it!”

Counting under his breath, Gally squinted up at the sky, his mouth falling open in horror; the storm was right on top of them now, the clouds pulsing white. His eyes widened as he saw Minho about to throw himself in the wrong direction, his body already twisting. “Minho, NO!”

There was another flash, and Minho disappeared in an explosion of fiery light.

The world was silent apart from a deafening ringing, all of them crashing to a halt.

“MINHO!” Newt cried despairingly. He looked at Thomas in panic, a hand clenched in his blazing hair. “How many lives has he got left? _How bloody many_?”

“He’s got one!” Gally shouted back. “One more!”

_Plink!_

A figure plummeted from the clouds above, slipping between bolts of lightning, a gasp of horror tumbling from Newt’s mouth. Seconds, later, Minho landed flat on his ass in the sand, looking around blearily, wisps of smoke rising from his jacket.

They hauled Minho to his feet, Gally dragging one of his arms over his shoulders as Newt grabbed the other. Another bolt of lightning hit the ground nearby; Thomas flinched violently at the blinding flash, the sound of the blast hitting him a moment later, punching through the incessant ringing.

Minho swore, his face pale. “I’m fine, I’m fine!”

“You got hit by lightning!” Thomas argued.

“Yeah! And you got stabbed and Newt got bitten and Gally exploded and the three of us dropped through an elevator shaft. What else is new?!”

Thomas gritted his teeth. “Just shut up, Minho!”

“Bloody hell, just go!” Newt roared over another boom of thunder. “Come on!”

And then they were running, _running_ , staggering desperately through the darkness, sand hailing down on them. Gally reached the building ahead of them, flinging the door open. “MOVE!” he screeched frantically. “Come on, hurry up! Come on! Get in!”

Pushing, stumbling, the lightning snapping at their heels, they finally staggered into the building, the door slamming shut behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter!!
> 
> I tried to turn this one into more of a challenge than the mall one was (there are still a few moments from my other tmr fic, but I switched things around a little). I had Newt figuring the pattern out because I've always pictured him quietly observing in the background and putting things together in the Glade, so wanted to add a little of that here.
> 
> Yikes, they need to be more careful. Their lives are rapidly disappearing ...
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and kudos to help keep me inspired. Would love to know your thoughts on this one! Thank you so much to all my readers for sticking with me this far <3 hope the story is everything you're wanting it to be.  
> (also here's a hint - there's a special newtmas moment in the upcoming chapter ;) can't wait to share it with you all once I've finished it!)


	8. Starlit Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this next part!! And newtmaaaas :D <3

“The shuck?” Minho started.

They were standing in a room, pitch black except for two spotlights shining on two stone pedestals. On one was a key; on the other, a simple handgun. Undoubtedly, they were going to have to choose one.

“Wait, let’s just think this through,” Thomas said as he saw everyone opening their mouths to argue.

A pause. “A weapon in a video game generally means we’re going to encounter something bad,” Gally began.

“But you hold all the weapons, Gally,” Newt pointed out. “This must be something outside what your character’s gonna supply us with.”

Thomas pursed his lips. “The key might get us into the next one -”

“We can’t afford to mess around,” Minho cut him off. “We’re running out of lives here. Take the gun.”

“But the key -”

“They’re very different objects,” Newt said thoughtfully, scratching his chin. “It was clearly put there for a reason. Maybe we should take the key -”

“But the gun -”

Before anyone could protest, Thomas reached out and snatched up the key.

“Oi!” Gally yelled, fuming.

For one frightening moment, the room was plunged into darkness.

When the blackness lifted, they were standing in a large rusting shed, sunlight streaming through cracks in the corrugated iron roof over their heads. The pedestals - as well as the gun - had disappeared; instead, parked in front of them, covered in dust, was a jeep.

Surging forward, they threw open the doors, hollering in excitement. The truck was weathered and had clearly seen better days, but still looked sturdy and somewhat comfortable. There were keys already in the ignition, completely ruling out the one in Thomas’s sweaty palm; he slid it away in the folds of his clothing, deciding to think about it later.

Frowning, Minho tugged the tattered map out of his pocket, staring at it in bewilderment for a brief second before he let out a crow of excitement. “Road trip!” he hollered, stabbing a pudgy finger at the map - momentarily forgetting that no one else could see it. “We’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of us to get where we need to be, shanks.”

It seemed the game was finally giving them a proper rest from the challenges, the relief in the air palpable. “Alright, I get shotgun,” Newt called with a faint smirk.

Anxiety still gnawed at Thomas. “How far are we going?” he asked.

Minho shook his head. “Dunno. Looks like we gotta follow a valley and it’ll get us ... somewhere ...”

They all stood quietly for a moment, their insides turning cold at the thought of another level.

“I’ll drive,” Gally decided, breaking the tense silence.

When the others looked at him, Gally rolled his eyes. “Look, this Finbar shank has a pilot’s license. How different could it be?”

o-o-o-o-o

The jeep stalled for the third time, and Gally swore.

“Come _on_ , Gal,” Minho groaned.

“Shut up, slinthead! I nearly had it then -”

“Let me try -”

“No, we need _you_ to read the map -”

“Kids, stop arguing,” Newt snapped, by all appearances an angry mother. “Let Tommy drive.”

“Why _him_?” Gally complained.

“Bloody hell - because he can actually drive in real life!” Newt blustered.

Gally threw his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine! Your shucking funeral.”

“Funny, I thought we were already attending it,” Minho retorted.

Thomas got the jeep working again, and they were soon ploughing across the barren landscape with no further incidents, Gally fuming in the backseat about the whole ordeal.

Well, you couldn’t please everyone.

o-o-o-o-o

They made camp not long after the sun had set, stopping the truck in the middle of nowhere and settling down to sleep. Minho and Gally quickly dropped off in the backseat, limbs sprawling and mouths gaping as they snored.

Painfully wide awake, Thomas found himself sitting on the warm hood of the jeep, gazing up at the billions of stars. A gentle breeze swept around him, light and cool after the scorching heat of the day.

There was the gentle sound of one of the doors closing, and a moment later Newt agilely leapt up to join him, stretching out the long, tanned legs of his avatar.

They sat quietly for a moment.

“You’ve barely sat still since this whole thing started,” Newt said softly. He gently put a hand on Thomas’s arm. “The wheels are still spinning, aren’t they?”

Thomas huffed. “Is it that obvious?”

Newt smirked, but his eyes were kind. “I can see the steam coming out of your ears.”

After a brief chuckle, Thomas’s expression darkened. “I messed up so bad, Newt. I’m the reason we’re trapped in this game.”

Newt swallowed thickly at the churning guilt in Thomas’s eyes. He shook his head slowly. “No,” he assured him. “No, none of us had any idea we’d end up here. I mean, have you ever heard of it happening before?”

It did little to reassure Thomas. His eyes glistened with tears. “I just keep seeing flashes of everyone’s life count.” He sniffled. “Your lives are in my hands now. And we’re down to our last chances. What if we die and can never go home?”

Newt glanced at the single black line on his own wrist, his mouth twisting in a grimace.

Thomas didn’t miss the change in his expression. Sighing heavily, he put his face in his hands. “I play video games. I _know_ how to do this. Move from one level to the next; solve the puzzles, beat the challenges, defeat the bad guys.”

“So what’s different?” Newt asked quietly.

“I’m so _scared_ , Newt.” Thomas finally looked at him again, an agonising insecurity on his features. “I can’t think clearly; I keep messing up, and _you_ guys are paying for it. I just -” 

He ran a hand agitatedly over his head, still unused to being bald. He wanted to clench his fingers in his hair in despair, in frustration. “I don’t deserve this character. I’m not brave, I’m not strong. This guy, he’s a hero, and I’m just ... just me.” He laughed harshly. “Scared stupid of anything that moves right now.”

He exhaled heavily, his breath shaky. His heart clenching, Newt gripped his hand, squeezing hard. “Now, you listen to me closely, Tommy,” he said, his voice low and fierce.

Thomas started at the intensity of his tone.

“We are going to make it,” Newt continued, staring into Thomas’s eyes. “We are going to finish this game, and we are going to get out.”

“But ... how do you _know_?” Thomas asked, begged.

There was the trace of a smile on Newt’s face. “Because I know _you_ , Thomas,” he said. “You don’t give yourself much credit for it, but you’re always trying. Trying to make things better, no matter what. You’re determined, you face things head on; you’re so buggin’ stubborn sometimes I can’t get through to you with a two-by-four, but your heart is always - _always_ \- in the right place.”

Thomas stared, his mouth falling open.

“You always try to see the best in people,” Newt continued, “which I think is bloody noble. I mean, Gally’s done nothing but antagonize you this entire time, yet in every single level you’ve been prepared to save his sorry arse. Most shanks our age don’t have that kind of decency in them.”

“I just want to get everyone home,” Thomas mumbled.

“And that’s what makes you different.” Newt shifted closer. “You’re a leader, and maybe it makes you better for it that you’ve never _asked_ to be one. You’ve gotten us this far, and we’re still here. We will finish this and we will go home.” His eyes shone. “You _can’t_ give up. I won’t let you.”

Thomas huffed with quiet laughter. “You believe in me that much?”

Newt smiled gently. “Don’t you?”

And Thomas felt his heart turn over in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this one and it was worth the wait!!
> 
> So this chapter was a little bit of a transition one, they're shifting between the levels and getting a true breather from the things the levels have thrown at them. They're getting a chance to rest ... and have some personal moments between them. (Which we might have seen in the facility if they weren't so eager to get out haha).
> 
> As you may have guessed, that moment between Newt and Thomas is based on my favourite deleted scene in Scorch Trials. Thomas is feeling so guilty over landing them all in the game, and even though Newt isn't happy about the turn of events either, he's still trying his best to lift Thomas's spirits. I have a lot of emotions about newtmas, don't mind me. I really wanted to get a true connection between them aside from the obvious crushing and hand holding.
> 
> And choosing between the gun and the key. Hmm, I wonder what that was about? Guess we'll find out soon enough. Would love to know your theories!
> 
> Thank you so so much for your patience with this one! I was a little stuck on the next chapter so kept this one back just in case I needed to change something. But now since I'm making good headway with that one I decided I would upload this one!  
> Feel free to leave comments and kudos if you're still enjoying the story xx Even just a couple of words to let me know that I'm taking this fic in a good directions. It'll help keep me motivated, thank you again!!


	9. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!! :D

The flat desert landscape slowly turned to scrubland. The patches of greenery were a welcome change from the searing golden sand.

“How about we call them infected people Cranks,” Minho said suddenly.

The other three turned to look at him.

“What?” he asked. “They’re all the same. Cranks, crazies, crackpots, loonies -”

“Cranks it is,” Newt cut him off, his eyes twinkling. “You bloody human thesaurus.”

“Ah, the best kind of dinosaur - right behind a do-you-think-he-saurus -”

“Okay, mate, your paleontology needs a little work -”

Ignoring them, Gally pointed out the windscreen. “Look, shanks. There’s something up there.”

“ _He_ saw something,” Newt laughed. Sniggering, Minho unashamedly threw his hand up for a high-five.

It was an abandoned infection checkpoint, all barbed wire and rusting warning signs.

A gentle breeze sent a few scattered pieces of discoloured paper blowing around the eerily silent station, a lone tumbleweed rolling across the road in front of them as Thomas pulled the jeep to a stop.

Clambering out, Newt looked dubiously at Thomas, raising an eyebrow. “You want us to go in there?” he asked.

The tunnel set into the hillside ahead was devoid of any light; they couldn’t even see through to the exit on the other side, no matter how much they squinted their eyes.

Thomas glanced at their cartographer. “Minho?”

Whistling, Minho studied the map, his eyes drifting across images and words the rest of them couldn’t see. After a moment, he shook his head, tutting. “Only one way to go, shanks.”

Newt bit his lip. “I don’t wanna come across as too negative,” he began, “but, I mean, if I was a Crank, that’s _exactly_ where I would be.”

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Thomas told him.

They stared silently into the impenetrable blackness of the tunnel for a long moment; none of them knew what horrors awaited them, but they could guess.

“Alright,” Newt said finally, turning back to the jeep. “I get shotgun.”

“You called it last time!” Minho pouted.

Newt flipped him off, barely holding back a grin.

o-o-o-o-o

The four of them collectively drew their breaths as they passed into the shadow of the underpass. As they turned a corner and the tunnel entrance disappeared from view, Thomas flicked a switch, powering up the truck’s extra headlights.

Newt swung his torch beam around, leaning out the window. “Yeah, just take it nice and slow,” he told Thomas.

Their speed was agonisingly sluggish. Thomas kept his foot tentatively pressed to the accelerator as they plunged deeper into the tunnel, the pitch-black corridor littered with debris and forsaken vehicles, all long since abandoned.

Suddenly, the pounding of drums filled the air, echoing around the tunnel. All four of their faces visibly paled.

“Oh bloody hell, bloody hell,” Newt muttered.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Gally suddenly yelped, and Thomas hit the brakes.

Straight ahead of them was a Crank, hunched over and facing the other way. Its body jerked, and a faint gagging sound could be heard from it.

Thomas swallowed thickly. “Newt,” he choked out. “Wind up the window. Slowly.”

His face white with terror, Newt moved back into the cab with deliberate precision, shaking fingers winding the window back up.

Minho had the map in a white-knuckle hold. “What do we do?” he whispered.

The tension in the air was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Thomas glanced at all three of them. “It’s okay,” he assured. “It’s just one. We’ll take it slow, go around him.” He nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

And that was when they saw the pale woman standing outside the back window.

Swearing, Minho jumped backwards, colliding painfully with Gally. Newt and Thomas spun around, eyes bulging in fright.

Another hand hit the glass next to Newt. He scrambled back into Thomas at the sight of the infected man pressed against the truck window.

“Okay, Tomboy, we gotta go,” Minho said.

More hands began to slam against the truck in a haunting drumbeat, faces emerging out of the darkness, all rotting flesh and missing teeth, black veins trailing across their skin.

“Just floor it, greenie!” Gally yelled.

There was a thud on the roof.

“DRIVE!” Newt screamed.

Thomas hit the accelerator, and all of them were thrown backwards as they rocketed forwards. “Seat belts!” he yelled.

“What, now?!” Minho asked as he was hurled sideways into Gally, knocking the air out of them both.

“Keep moving!” Newt roared, one boot pressed against the dashboard and one hand frantically gripping the roof handle for dear life, his red hair flying about with every jolt.

Cranks were flying everywhere, screeching heinously as Thomas’s erratic driving threw them clear of the vehicle, the truck lurching nauseatingly. Gally yelped in horror; an infected man clung to the hood of the jeep, leering at them through the glass, black liquid pooling from his lips.

“Come on, Tommy, shake him!” Newt yelled.

“I’M TRYING!”

The Crank slammed a brick into the windscreen; a spiderweb of cracks appeared in the glass.

“Hang on!” Thomas yelled, jerking the truck sideways and catching the Crank on a jutting piece of metal sticking out of another abandoned vehicle. The infected man was wrenched off their truck.

Minho’s gaze snapped back to the front of the truck, and his eyes widened. “TOMBOY, WATCH OUT!” he yelled.

It was too late. They slammed into another vehicle; the wheels locked and the jeep rolled, all of them barely having time to grab onto anything as they tumbled head over heels. Several eternal seconds later, the jeep lost momentum and the wrecked vehicle lurched to a stop on its roof. The lights went out, plunging them all into darkness.

“Oh, bloody buggering hell,” Newt muttered the front of the truck as there was a muffled swear word from Minho.

There was a frantic rustling sound. “Where’s my shucking backpack?” Gally bit out.

A moment later, there was a sharp _click_ and the truck cabin exploded with light from the torch clutched in Gally’s hand.

When the door wouldn’t budge, Newt gritted his teeth and slammed his boot against the window. It broke instantly under the weight, and he clambered out through the opening on his hands and knees, wary of the glass fragments littering the ground.

“You good?” he asked as Thomas squeezed out behind him.

He nodded, coughing at the dust. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he wheezed.

A few seconds later, Minho and Gally were scrambling out after them, the latter having to drag his backpack out separately. “Here,” Gally said, passing them spare flashlights.

A bellowing, angry roar thundered up the tunnel. Their heads whipped around at the spine-chilling sound.

“Oh, shuck,” Minho uttered.

They were swarming up the passageway, at least fifty Cranks, stumbling and scrambling as they stampeded straight towards them.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Newt swore.

“Okay, we gotta go,” Thomas said, starting backwards. “Go, go!”

Charging through the darkness, they ducked and dived around the jagged outcrops of metal and abandoned cars strewn about the tunnel. Their flashlight beams ricocheted around them as they tried to put as much distance between themselves and the horde as possible.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Thomas yelled, slamming to a halt and throwing his arms wide.

Minho crashed into him, grunting as his arm collided painfully with his torso. “Thomas -!”

There were Cranks charging towards them from the opposite end of the passage as well. 

They were trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure do love my cliffhangers, don't I.
> 
> It was getting a little long for my usual chapter word count, so decided to cut the event in two. Plus, there's a little moment in the next chapter which I'm still trying to get right so thought I'd share this part anyway. Hoping to have the end of this chapter up by tomorrow!!
> 
> So yes we're now venturing into Death Cure territory! I'm still really enjoying adding in the little banter moments. (Minewt is my fave to write, next to Newtmas.) I was cracking up laughing writing the dinosaur jokes at the beginning.  
> Also Thomas's solution to yeet the Cranks, hehe.
> 
> Hope this was satisfying for you to read. Thanks so much for reading!


	10. A Life Given

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, that title ... can anyone guess what's gonna happen?! Enjoy :D xx

“Oh, shucking hell!” Minho yelled.

His mind moving in fast forward, Thomas whirled around. “Gally, pass me my boomerang!”

“Here!”

A moment later the weapon was in his hand, and all hell broke loose.

The tunnel was rife with explosions as the boomerang arced around the space and doubled back, slicing through the army of Cranks with frightening ease.

“Tommy -!” Newt started.

“Just get behind me!” he roared.

Adrenaline surged through Thomas’s veins; for every Crank that exploded in a burst of fire, there were four, five, six more to replace them, a tidal wave of retching, veiny, shrieking corpses. The sheer noise they made had the hairs shooting up on the back of his neck.

But still the Cranks surged towards them.

“Come on, let’s get out of here!” Minho roared as a minimal path was cleared for them.

Thomas threw the boomerang again. “Get on my back!” he yelled at Gally.

Scowling, Gally opened his mouth to argue when he took another look at the approaching swarm. His jaw clenched. “Fine!”

Thomas barely noticed the extra weight as he hauled Gally onto his back, Finbar so much smaller than Bravestone. They took off running, Newt and Minho falling in behind them as Thomas kept clearing the path, ploughing through the Cranks.

“Newt -!” Minho shouted.

With a scream, Newt punched a Crank as it launched itself at him. “Bloody move it!” he yelled.

They hurtled down the tunnel, charging through the swarm, barreling past the hordes of undead. Faces lurched out of the darkness, seen in the flashes of torchlight, in the blinding bursts of explosions as Thomas kept the boomerang spinning. Minho dislodged two with another well-aimed punch that had his character howling in pain.

Even Gally managed to get several good kicks in from his elevated position. “You want zoology?” he screeched. “I’m channeling my inner ostrich, shuckfaces!”

They swerved around a corner, and Gally’s eyes bulged; there was the exit. “Go, greenie, go!” he shrieked.

They surged forward, even faster than before. Still unused to his sizable belly, Minho tripped on a pothole, slamming into the ground with a sharp yelp.

“MIN!” Newt shrieked, hauling him to his feet, Cranks scrabbling at them. “Come on!”

They ran faster, footsteps crashing against the concrete in time with their heartbeats. The bright light was growing, growing -

And then they were racing into the sunshine, a blast of heat hitting them as they left the darkness of the tunnel behind them, bursting out onto a cliff top.

They stood there gasping for breath, giddy with the sheer relief that they had made it.

“They don’t like sunlight,” Thomas choked out as he dropped Gally back onto the ground.

They all looked. Indeed, the Cranks were standing at the verge of the tunnel as if an invisible barrier was keeping them back.

“Either that, or that’s the level boundary,” Minho commented.

Gally straightened up, shielding his eyes. His jaw fell open. “Whoa,” he said, pointing.

Nestled in the valley before them was a beautiful city with tens of silver skyscrapers climbing towards the clouds, sparkling in the sunshine. It was a far cry from the maze or the abandoned buildings they had seen so far.

But that wasn’t what drew their eyes. Surrounding the gleaming metropolis was a massive wall towering almost as high as the buildings themselves. Everything outside of the barrier was a crumbling ruin of a town, stretching up into the hillsides.

Minho frowned. “Are my shuck eyes deceiving me or can you not see the city very well?”

He was right; there was a faint shimmer over the city, obscuring any finer details from view.

“It hasn’t been unlocked yet,” Gally said, huffing with laughter. “Go figure.”

But Thomas’s attention was elsewhere. He frowned, staring at the splatters of red on the ground. “What’s with the blood?”

Newt swallowed, his face ashen. He twisted his wrist, showing the deep scratch running down his forearm. Already, dark veins were starting to creep up his skin.

“Newt?” Thomas called weakly.

And then Newt collapsed.

They swarmed to catch him, all of them shouting in panic as they lowered him to the ground. “Newt? Newt! Come on, man!”

Gally made a choked noise, pointing. “His last life’s fading.”

They all stared at the single black line on Newt’s forearm, slowly fading to leave Ruby’s pale wrist clear except for the writhing veins.

Something snapped inside Thomas, panic and devotion and an overwhelming sense of duty slamming through him. He launched himself forward, kneeling over Newt. “Come on, Newt!” he begged, clamping his hands together and slamming them down on Newt’s chest in a steady rhythm.

“Come on, Newtie!” Minho yelled.

Thomas pinched Newt’s nose and tipped his head back, clamping his mouth over Newt’s and exhaling deeply, barely thinking about the lip contact, his only train of thought begging whatever higher beings were listening to let Newt live.

Pulling away, Thomas frantically continued the chest compressions, willing the life back into Newt.

A hand gripped Thomas’s shoulder. “Game logic doesn’t work that way,” Gally choked out, his voice pained. “He can’t come back to life like that -”

“It’s my fault we’re here in the first place,” Thomas bit out. “I’m not leaving without him, and I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try -”

“Wait!” Minho yelled. “Look!”

They stared at Newt in shock. The veins on his arm were vanishing, the jagged cut disappearing; on his wrist, the black bar was slowly returning ... and one of the two lines on Thomas’s own arm was fading.

“You’re giving him one of your lives,” Minho breathed. “Shucking brilliant.”

More determined than ever, Thomas pressed his mouth to Newt’s again, exhaling once, twice, three times -

There was a feeble cough. “Bugger ...”

“There he is!” Minho crowed shakily, ruffling Newt’s long hair. “We gotcha, buddy.”

Lightheaded, Thomas tumbled to the ground, collapsing on his back.

“What happened?” Newt asked, blinking back to alertness. He stared at his arm in confusion. “I thought I was a goner. That was my last life.”

Gally was staring at Thomas with something akin to awe. “The greenie gave you one of his.”

Newt turned his head, red strands tumbling across his face. His eyes widened at the sight of Thomas collapsed on the ground breathing heavily. He reached out, his fingers brushing Thomas’s face. “Tommy ... you saved my life,” he whispered.

Thomas’s cheeks flushed. “Of course I did.” He swallowed thickly. “I can’t lose you, Newt.”

Newt sucked in a sharp breath, the two of them staring at each other for an eternal few seconds, the rest of the world fading out around them.

The harsh beep of a horn dragged them back to reality.

They looked over their shoulders to see a grey, windowless van waiting for them. Standing beside the open doors at the back were two masked, armed figures.

Minho grimaced. “Come on, let’s get you shanks up,” he said, extending a hand to Newt, who grasped it gratefully.

Gally moved as if to offer Thomas his arm, but hesitated at the last second. Perplexed but deciding not to comment on it, Thomas clambered to his feet unaided, brushing the dust off his pants.

“What’s the plan?” Newt asked, staring nervously at the two armed figures.

Minho stared at the map in his hands. “I think ... I think we’re meant to go with them.”

“What?” Gally said sharply.

“The map’s a dead end. Face it, they’re blocking the road with their van. I don’t think we’re getting around them.”

Thomas bit his lip, weighing up their options. Finally, he motioned to his companions. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Following his lead without protest, they clambered into the vehicle. As the guards wordlessly slammed the doors shut and they drove off with the screech of tires, Thomas desperately hoped he had made the right decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one!! Hope you liked it.
> 
> Now our squad is down to one life each! How on earth are they going to deal with that? Will they all make it home? Will someone have to make a sacrifice? Who knows? (don't ask me, I'm still writing it haha)
> 
> This was a really enjoyable one to write, mostly because of Newt and Thomas, but also because we're starting to see a different side of Gally! He's slowly letting his walls down around Thomas, and seeing him in a different light; he's starting to respect him more.  
> (Also Gally's ostrich comment is of course a reference to Jumanji: The Next Level which was AWESOME!! Loved the movie just as much as the first reboot film)
> 
> Let me know your thoughts down in the comments!! It's been a rough couple of days, and your feedback always always makes me smile. Feel free to leave kudos as well if you're still enjoying the story - I'm truly so happy that so many of you are still here, and sticking around to see how this fic ends. Hope to see you all for another update soon <3


	11. The Forsaken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say a huge thank you for your supportive comments and messages last week <3  
> Hope you all enjoy this (slightly longer) latest chapter!! :D

The van jolted with every dip in the road.

“We’re going downhill,” Newt observed quietly.

He was right; it seemed they were slowly winding their way down the valley and into the crumbling city. Their guards were another set of NPCs; none of Thomas’s attempts to communicate with them were successful. Not even Minho tossing his boot at one of them prompted a reaction.

There was the sound of screeching metal up ahead; a door opening. “Let’s go!” a voice called.

They turned a corner sharply and Newt went crashing sideways. “Sorry, Tommy,” he gasped.

Thomas swallowed thickly at the close proximity, his face flushing again. “It’s okay.”

The atmosphere changed as they were plunged into a grey half-light, and he wondered where the hell they were. Their guards didn’t say a word, not until their vehicle screeched to an abrupt halt and the door was thrown open. “Get out, get out!” one of them barked.

Raising his hands in surrender, Gally clambered out of the van after Minho, with Newt and Thomas quickly following suit. They were in a semi underground parking area, with shafts of light streaming down from a foyer just beyond a crowd of people in threadbare clothing, all of whom were watching. There was a ragged look about them, their eyes strangely empty ... and there was the hint of veins creeping out from beneath shirt collars.

“They’re infected, they’re infected,” Thomas chanted in horror under his breath, reaching for Newt’s hand and holding tight.

Wordlessly, they all pushed Newt towards the middle of their group, protecting him as they came to a stop in front of a male guard, a gun in his arms.

Thomas cleared his throat. “Uh, excuse me, sir?”

The man blinked. “Doctor Bravestone. We have been expecting you.” He turned and beckoned to them over his shoulder. “Right this way.”

o-o-o-o-o

They entered a secluded room on the mezzanine level; their noses wrinkled as they were hit by the overwhelming smell of flowers. There was the soft sound of music, piano and violin perfectly entwined.

“Rose took my nose, I suppose,” a raspy voice murmured below. “Suppose, suppose, took my nose.”

Gally looked nervous, while Minho muttered, “What the shuck, what the shuck,” repeatedly under his breath. Thomas didn’t let go of Newt’s hand.

Following the guard, they descended the staircase one after the other into the living area below, a cozy space filled with weathered books, plants, and other personal treasures.

Silhouetted against the window was a shrunken figure, standing amongst a collection of rose bushes dominating the space at the far end of the room.

“Lawrence. He’s here,” the guard announced.

The man barely glanced their way. “Dismissed.”

With a nod, the guard retreated back up the stairs, the door closing firmly behind him with an uncomfortable sense of finality.

“Doctor Bravestone,” Lawrence rasped. “It’s been a long time. I did not expect to see you in these parts again.”

When Thomas didn’t respond, Minho elbowed him in the back. He cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s a pleasure,” he stuttered.

The silence stretched.

“Ask him if he knows how to get into the city,” Newt whispered.

Thomas fought back his nerves. “We need to get into WCKD,” he said. “Can you get us through those walls?”

“That depends.”

He moved into the light, and they reeled backwards in horror. The entire right side of Lawrence’s face had been eaten away by the Flare, the skin covered in dark black and blue veins; his eyes were clouded, dark and unreadable; his entire cheek had rotted away to reveal blackened, diseased muscle, and the same thing had happened to his nose.

Nausea rocketed through Newt, like death was staring him in the face.

_Step, creak, clunk. Step, creak, clunk._ Lawrence leaned in, standing mere feet away from Thomas, staring him down despite being much shorter.

“I am a businessman,” he told him quietly. “Which means that I don’t take unnecessary risks. Why should I help you?”

Thomas watched Lawrence, his gaze unwavering. “We can help you,” he promised. “If you can get us through those walls, we can get you what you need.”

Lawrence was silent for a long, tense moment. “What is it,” he began softly, “that you think I need?”

“Time,” Thomas replied, unhesitatingly. He thought of the vial of serum that lay waiting for them at WCKD. “Every last drop.”

The man let out a quiet huff of laughter. “Is that what I need?” he asked.

Thomas’s face was a stoic mask. “WCKD has something we both want,” he replied quietly, firmly. _A way out. A way home._

Lawrence stared at him for a long time. Finally, he nodded, and Thomas exhaled deeply in relief; somehow, he had given the man the answer he had been after. Minho threw him a subtle thumbs up.

“Follow me,” was all Lawrence replied.

o-o-o-o-o

Lawrence led them through the base, the eyes of the other people following them.

Thomas suppressed a shudder. There was a hungry look on their faces, warring with a deep anger. His stomach was already in knots just thinking about the confrontations ahead of them.

A thumb brushed across his knuckles. “We’ll be okay,” Newt soothed.

Thomas felt the clamp around his chest loosen a little.

They stepped into a room that seemed to be mainly used for planning. The walls were covered with maps and notes, and the table in the centre was also crowded with pieces of paper.

“We are survivors, but there aren’t many of us left,” he explained the moment they were past the doorway, coming to a stop by the table. “The Flare is spreading, and it will consume every last one of us before long.”

Lawrence stood there. It would have been a sign of patience if Thomas knew he wasn’t programmed to wait for their response - for their _correct_ response, just like with Nigel.

He cleared his throat. “Are you the Right Arm?” Thomas asked tentatively.

Lawrence laughed bitterly. “We stand with them, but we are not them. We are people who have been forsaken by our leaders, left to rot rather than be cured; not dead, but too far gone to be much use without the serum.” He coughed raggedly. “WCKD has done everything in their power to ensure the common folk of this land don’t receive the cure.”

Newt’s jaw dropped open in horror. “A fresh start with the people they choose.”

“Precisely.” He straightened up. “My people have chosen to make one last stand, and you were most fortunate to arrive when you did, Doctor Bravestone. I plan to destroy that city by midnight, whether you are still there or not.”

Thomas stiffened. It was a thinly-disguised time challenge, one they absolutely couldn’t afford to lose.

Minho glanced at him and nodded. “We’ve got this, Tomboy. We can do it.”

Thomas felt a surge of warmth through his chest, Minho’s confidence bolstering him. He threw him a small smile. “How do we get in?” he asked Lawrence.

“Sewage pipes,” Lawrence supplied. “There’s a series of tunnels that run beneath the wall. From there, you’ll be able to cross the city to WCKD’s headquarters.”

“What do you know about this Janson shank?” Gally asked.

Everyone was surprised when Lawrence turned to him to respond. “The entire city is his domain, but he works in shadow, driven by selfishness and desperation. Although,” he huffed with laughter, “aren’t we all?”

Quiet fell again. None of them could share in his humour.

Coughing, Lawrence returned to a more businesslike manner. “Everything you need is in this room,” he said. “I’ll be waiting outside, but be warned: I don’t like my patience being tested.”

Thomas nodded. “Understood.”

He glanced at Gally, who nodded. The moment they left the room, the next series of tasks would undoubtedly begin. They were momentarily safe, as long as they didn’t step beyond that doorway.

The second Lawrence had shut the door behind him, Newt’s gaze swept across the plans littering the table. “Alright, so what are we gonna do?”

Tugging the map from his pocket, Minho stared at it with wide eyes. “Hey, shanks ... the map’s changed.” He squinted. “It looks like we have a bonus level ... there’s a rhyme.”

Thomas frowned. “What?”

Minho reached across the table, pudgy fingers scrabbling at the loose sheets of paper. “I’ll write it down,” he muttered. “I’m not gonna remember this klunk.”

When he finally tossed his pencil down, Gally, Newt and Thomas leaned in close, reading the words scrawled in front of them.  


_Hours ago a decision was made;  
A key, a gun? To protect, or evade?  
Here is your chance, now use it wise;  
A metal angel commanding the skies.  
_

“Sounds ominous,” Newt muttered.

“Well ... angels are usually good things,” Thomas began tentatively.

“It’s a plane.”

Gally’s amazed voice cut through the quiet. They all turned to look at him. He had a strange expression of dawning realisation on his face. “Huh?” Minho asked.

“The key.” Excitement swept across Gally’s face. “The one Thomas took after the lightning storm. It’s to activate the control panel for the bergs.”

Thomas looked at him blankly. “Bergs?”

“Aircraft designed and used specifically by WCKD.” He tapped the side of his head. “This Finbar shank knows a lot about them. You three get the serum, and I’ll go and get one of those aircraft so we can make a quick getaway -”

“No, it’s too risky,” Thomas told him.

Gally smiled tightly. “I can fly, remember?”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Newt argued. “You should take someone as backup -”

“This is a bonus level; side levels are typically easier than the main tasks. I can handle it.” Gally pointed in the direction of the city. “Getting that serum is our first priority. We don’t get that, and we don’t go home. Simple as that, shanks.”

Minho checked the map again, and his face went white.

“Uh, Minho?” Thomas called nervously.

Minho gulped. “After the city, there’s nothing left to fill on this map.” He looked up. “You shanks know what this means, right? This really is _the last level_.”

Silence fell between them.

“How many lives have we got left?” Newt asked quietly.

Slowly, they all turned their wrists over. All of them only had one life now.

“Shuck,” Gally swore quietly.

Thomas squared his shoulders. “Guys, we can do this. I know we can.” He pointed in the vague direction of the desert. “Look how far we’ve come! What we’ve done. We’ve faced mazes and monsters and lightning and still made it this far.”

Even Gally was paying attention now.

“I’ll do whatever I can to protect you guys,” Thomas told them. “It’s my fault we’re here in the first place, and using one of my lives for one of you is the least I can do.”

“But, we all gotta go home, shank,” Gally said suddenly.

Thomas started, caught off guard by the open sincerity in his expression. He cleared his throat. “We make a good plan, and that’ll happen.”

He caught Newt’s eye; his gaze was soft and warm, a look of fierce pride on his face.

It bolstered Thomas’s confidence. “We enter that city; we stay close, we stick _together_ as best we can, we get through this. We get out _now_ , or we die trying.”

Minho nodded. “We’re with you, Thomas.”

“Me, too,” Newt smiled.

Gally cleared his throat. “And me, three.” He nodded respectfully at Thomas, a faint smile on his face. “Get us home, greenie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to squeeze as many Death Cure moments/references in this thing as possible haha. Thank you so much for reading another chapter!!
> 
> This is technically another rest point between the main levels - although, as Gally already proved, they can still lose a life in them!! I'm having a great time twisting the plot to fit it into a video game scenario (eg the time challenge). Lawrence has just become one of my helpers to push the plot along.
> 
> GALLY THOUGH!! I'm so happy to have him a proper part of the team now. It's partly why I was saving the key/aircraft bit - it's been in my plot outline since the start, and it's so good to finally put it in! Wonder what the bonus level is going to bring ...  
> And Thomas starting to step up and be a proper leader. Aww he's growing!! I had to add in his speech at the end of the first tmr film somehow.
> 
> The next chapter is a bit of a mess from where I'm sitting, so it might be a little longer before the next upload. Please feel free to leave kudos, and let me know down in the comments what you like about this!! :D <3


	12. Princesses and Queens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured we needed a few laughs this week! Hope you all enjoy this longer chapter ... and cue the music ;) xx

“Ugh,” Newt announced. “This is gross.”

“Jesus,” Thomas groaned in disgust as they stomped through the muddy water swirling around their boots.

The cramped tunnel was dark with only Gally’s flashlights to guide them, and their backs soon began to ache from the constant crouching. Being the shortest, however, Gally was quietly enjoying himself, holding his tongue even as Thomas hit his head a second, third, _fourth_ time. He patted his pocket, feeling the cool metal of the key.

Minho ducked into a narrow side passage, shining his torch through the opening as he entered an adjacent tunnel that was barely four feet high. “Alright, this way.”

They had no concept of the passing time, only the cold, damp blackness surrounding them. Conversations were few and far between, all of them nervous of the challenges ahead. Newt slipped his hand into Thomas’s, who held on for dear life.

Eventually, they reached a fork in the passage.

“This is where we part ways, shanks,” Minho said, glancing at the map.

Nodding, Gally threw his backpack to the ground. “Alright, let’s see what we got.”

He began pulling out odd pieces of weaponry. Thomas stuffed his boomerang into his belt loops, and Gally passed them all stun blasters.

“They won’t kill,” he told them, “but they pack a punch. They’ll knock any of the guards out for a good while.”

“That’s all we need,” Thomas said firmly. His face flushed. “I know this is a game, but ... I really don’t want to kill anyone.” He thought of the Cranks, guilt surging through him. “Well, any _more_ people.”

Newt smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “Good that, Tommy.”

Soon - _too_ soon - they were ready.

His face pale, Gally threw them a salute. “See you shanks on the other side -”

“Wait,” Thomas said suddenly, grabbing Gally’s arm.

His brow furrowing in confusion, Gally stared at him. Sighing, Thomas swallowed his pride. “Gally, I’m - I’m sorry. For everything.”

Gally’s face softened the slightest amount. “I’m sorry, too,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t your fault you got chosen for the running team instead of me. I saw you on the track that day, and in the maze; you were made to run like that.”

Thomas threw him a small, tentative smile. “Thanks, Gally.” He held out an arm. “Good luck.”

Smiling back, Gally clasped his forearm. “Likewise.”

“Be careful, don’t die,” Minho told him.

Newt gripped his shoulder. “Look after yourself, Gal.”

Gally nodded, shouldering his pack again, and moments later vanished into the darkness.

The remaining trio set off down the left fork, an undeniable tension in the air. They didn’t have far to go; before long they reached a rusting ladder, leading up to a manhole cover high above them.

Thomas motioned Newt forward. “Ladies first.”

“Age before beauty,” Newt shot back, smirking as he dramatically flicked Ruby’s long hair over his shoulder.

Minho snorted. “Can’t win that one, Tomboy.”

Huffing out a laugh, Thomas scurried up the rungs and shoved the manhole cover open, anxiously peering out into the night.

The street above was deserted.

“Let’s go!” he whispered.

Newt emerged next, wincing as he grazed his bare knees on the road surface. Helping him to his feet, Thomas kept watch as Minho clambered out onto the street, and the moment he was clear Thomas clamped the manhole cover firmly back into place.

The pounding of drums filled the air.

“I’m gonna go ballistic when the school’s concert band brings the drummer on,” Minho muttered as Newt swore quietly. “This’s ruined it for me.”

Thomas barely bit back a smile. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The clock was ticking.

o-o-o-o-o

It didn’t take them long to sneak through the eerily quiet city. Displayed on giant digital billboards were notices about the curfew now in effect until morning, and the only other signs of a human presence were the patrol cars screaming through the streets, the word WCKD emblazoned on their sides.

Thomas sucked in a sharp breath, peeking out from behind a building as one went past them. “Let’s keep moving.”

The city was undeniably stunning, sleek black and silver skyscrapers towering over them and monorails soaring through the air. Newt knew without a doubt what his next art project was going to be, enraptured by the startling beauty around him.

Soon enough, they reached the WCKD building.

Steeling his nerves, Thomas motioned for Minho and Newt to duck. “Stay close,” he told them. They followed his orders without hesitation, the three of them sneaking closer and ducking behind a marble fountain in the front courtyard.

“Look,” Minho breathed.

Beyond the huge glass doors and windows, they could see a couple of soldiers in the lobby of the building, dressed in black with guns clutched to their chests.

Thomas could feel the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. “You gotta distract those guards, Newt,” he said quietly.

“Why me?” Newt hissed.

Minho sniggered, sharing a look with Thomas. “You’ve got the toolkit, shank. Just saying.”

Newt glanced down and sighed heavily. “Alright, fine. But I don’t even know _how_ to flirt.”

Minho threw an arm around his shoulders, grinning. “Girlfriend, let me tell you, if all else fails just lift that shirt of yours, and the guards will come running from _miles_.”

“Shuck off,” Newt retorted, ducking out from under his grip, but he was clearly holding back a smile, his eyes shining.

Making sure the coast was clear, they slipped through the doors, sneaking around the side of the lobby, keeping to the walls until they managed to take cover behind the front desk.

Peeking over the counter and observing the room, Thomas inhaled sharply. Nudging Newt and Minho, he pointed to the two guards standing in front of another doorway.

There was no other way to go.

“Send in the lizard,” Minho muttered.

Thomas cleared his throat. “You’re sure about this, Newt?”

Newt nodded, his jaw tightening in determination. “Abso-bloody-lutely.”

As he curled his fists, Thomas caught a glimpse of the single black line on Newt’s wrist; the reminder of the single life he had to spare.

His body moving before he was aware of it, Thomas took Newt’s face in his hands. It was disconcerting; even though he was looking at a girl who didn’t resemble Newt in the slightest, it was still _his_ facial expressions; the fear, the guardedness in his eyes. He swallowed thickly. “Newt, I -”

Newt hushed him. “Save it for after, Tommy -”

“I like you, Newt,” Thomas blurted out. His face flushed. “I _really_ like you. I - I just had to tell you. Before we - y’know - just in case ...”

A soft gasp escaped Newt, his lips parting. Finally, he smiled, brushing his thumb across Thomas’s cheek. “I really like you too, Tommy,” he whispered. “Have for years, you oblivious shank.”

Thomas blinked. “Really?”

“Really.”

His heart in his mouth, Thomas surged forward and kissed Newt’s temple, a breathy press of lips to the edge of his forehead. “Go kick their asses, babe.”

The name slipped from his mouth without warning. However, Newt threw him a cheeky smirk, his eyes glinting in a way that was undoubtedly him. With a squeeze of his hand, Newt rose elegantly to his feet, set his shoulders back, and strode off across the lobby, flicking the long strands of hair about his face.

Minho grinned, clapping Thomas on the shoulder. “My dear child is turning into a man,” he teased, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

Thomas fought back a smile. “Shut up, Minho.”

The shake in Newt’s body was barely noticeable, his head held high as he moved closer, _closer_ , to the soldiers. Thomas could only hold his breath, his heart thrashing anxiously in his chest.

“Looking good, Newtie,” Minho said quietly, all traces of humour suddenly gone.

Newt stepped up to the guards. “Hello, lads,” he greeted. He ran another hand through Ruby’s hair in what he hoped was a seductive manner. “Fancy seeing you here. Do you - do you come here often?”

The guards merely stared at him blankly.

Newt could feel himself starting to panic. He swallowed thickly. _Just think_ , he told himself. _Imagine this is Tommy. How would you talk to him? No, that won’t work. I need to be a girl. Like, a girly girl. Bloody buggering shuck. Where is Sonya when I need her? Of course, the one time I actually need my sister -_

Forcing a smile on his face, he swayed his hips. “What’s a pretty girl gotta do to get some attention around here?” he giggled. Yes, giggled. Bloody hell, this was embarrassing.

One of the guards shifted. “Hello, little lady,” he said, eyes hard as steel. “What are you doing here all alone?”

Newt gulped. _Be a girl, be a girl._ He tossed his head, letting the red strands fly. “I seem to be lost.” He did a twirl, making a show of it. “Can you help me?”

The guard tightened his grip on his weapon. “Hello, little lady,” he repeated. “What are you doing here all alone?”

Newt could feel the colour draining from his face. “I was - I was out seeing the city! It’s so beautiful,” he gushed. He giggled again, the sound horrifying hollow to his own ears. “I thought maybe you would want to take a stroll with me? Take in the scenery?”

The guard took a step forward, this time cocking the gun. “Hello, little lady -”

Minho grimaced. “New plan. Sneak around the room and grab the guards from behind.”

Thomas nodded sharply. “Let’s go.”

Unfortunately, Thomas was still unused to the sheer scale of his avatar. Sneaking past the desk, he accidentally stumbled into a stereo, tripping over his own large boots. As a crash sounded - the two of them rapidly plummeting to the floor to conceal themselves - Minho looked like he was about to murder Thomas, to hell with the life count.

And then, to Thomas’s utter horror, the stereo whirred. _“Ooh, baby I love your way ...”_ a voice curled out of the speakers.

A look of dawning realisation swept across Newt’s face. “Say ... would you handsome lads like a dance?” he drawled.

And then he proceeded to beat the living shuck out of them.

_“Shadows grow so long before my eyes, and they’re moving ... across the page ...”_

Taking a peek, Minho gaped, his eyes alight. “He’s kicking their asses!”

_“Suddenly the day turns into night, far away from the city ...”_

“Dance fighting,” Thomas whispered in awe.

Newt’s - Ruby’s - body moved elegantly to the music, twisting, contorting, long limbs flying up to knee a guard in the head, to strangle the other between muscular thighs, boots slamming into stomachs and groins and necks.

And all in that spectacular outfit.

Minho grabbed his arm. “You can ogle at his ass later, Tomboy!”

Seconds later, both guards were unconscious on the floor. Newt stood over them proudly, beaming.

Minho laughed. “Forget princess,” he grinned, clapping Newt on the shoulder. “You’re a shucking _queen_!”

Smiling, Thomas hauled Newt into a fierce hug. “You did good, Newtie,” he whispered in his ear.

He could feel Newt smiling against him. “Thanks, Tommy.”

“Hey, lovebirds.”

His cheeks flushing, Thomas stumbled back from Newt to see Minho staring at the keypad on the door. “We need a code to get into the rest of the building,” he realised.

Minho hesitated, his hand hovering over the control panel. “Could it really be that easy?” he muttered.

Slowly, he began to punch in digits. _Seven, one, five, two ..._

Thomas rolled his eyes, and Newt huffed out a laugh. “That sequence is gonna haunt me for the rest of my bloody life.”

The keypad turned green.

Thomas clapped him on the back. “Nice work, Minho.”

Minho grinned up at him, tipping his hat. “See, I’m the brains of the operation here -”

“Take that back, Tommy,” Newt said. Thomas barely held back a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Another slightly longer chapter. With everything going on, I reckon it was worth it.
> 
> So this was one of my FAVOURITE chapters to write, hands down!! For so, SO many reasons. Teamwork, dance fighting, newtmas. I somehow crammed all of them into one chapter. Hope you all liked it and it made you smile a little.  
> We're nearing the end now - I'm in the process of writing the end scenes and I'm a little sad that the end of the fic is in sight! I'm truly grateful for all of you who joined me on this adventure.
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments and kudos if you're enjoying the story! :D Your comments truly mean the world to me and keep me inspired to write.
> 
> Stay safe everyone. I know it's a tough time for a lot of you right now, but we'll get through this <3 <3


	13. Timing is Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, finally got this one ready to upload! Enjoy :D xx

“We need to go that way,” Thomas murmured, pointing.

“Great observation, Tomboy. How do we get past the guards? Make ‘em dance again?”

They crouched behind a wall, watching the soldiers striding past. There were only a couple of them patrolling the area.

“They’re moving in a pattern,” Newt realised. “It’s a loop.”

Thomas frowned. “Huh?”

“Watch. The soldier with the dark hair. He’ll be back again in twenty seconds; he’ll fix his hair, step backwards, then turn down the corridor.”

Silently, Minho and Thomas paid closer attention. Sure enough, the man did exactly as Newt had predicted before disappearing again.

_A stealth mission_.

“Okay,” Thomas said, looking to Newt. “How do we do this?”

Newt narrowed his eyes, watching for another moment. “The woman on the far side, we have a seven second window after the guy leaves before she reappears.”

“There’s a planter box over there,” Minho said, pointing. “We can hide there until she goes past.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Thomas said.

Minho grabbed his arm. “Just so we’re clear, what kind of stealth player are you?” he asked. “No bodies for the guards to notice, or no guards left to notice the bodies?”

Thomas gritted his teeth. “I’m not killing anyone -”

“I know. But, in theory -”

“No bodies to notice,” Thomas cut him off with a roll of his eyes. “Come on.”

The moment the coast was clear, they took off.

It was the most intense stealth mission Thomas had ever played in any game. It was as if he could feel the physical weight of the single life count on his wrist. They darted down the corridor, pausing every so often, constantly counting and narrating their actions.

“One, two, three, four, duck. Turn the corner. Wait. Go!”

Slowly, they moved deeper into the compound, observing the soldiers around them for a minute or two before continuing onwards. After a while, it seemed almost fun, their terror melting away as they focused on the task at hand. Newt’s keen eyes noticed every little movement the soldiers made, while Minho mentally kept track of their route - clearly, Shelly Oberon’s cartography skills went beyond paper.

They made an excellent team, Thomas noted as he followed up the rear, using his watch to mark their windows of opportunity. In fact, it was all going very well until a trick step sent Minho glitching back to the bottom of the stairs they had been jogging up.

Unable to help himself, Thomas laughed.

“What’s so shucking funny?” Minho growled.

Thomas shook his head. “It’s a time challenge,” he explained. “The obstacles won’t kill us. At least, not right here.”

Newt started to grin. “They were placed specifically to piss you off, Min.”

“Shuck you and the Griever you rode in on.”

They made it to the next floor without getting caught, ducking into what appeared to be a conference room and hunkering down behind the row of tables. A soldier with a cup of coffee went past the door a mere second later.

Thomas exhaled sharply. “That was close.”

He knew they were being cocky. They couldn’t lose their heads now; not when they were so close to the end of the game.

As they had before, they sat and watched as multiple people strode past ... and again ... and again. They even had a couple of scientists, by the looks of their lab coats.

“Was that the end of the sequence?” Minho asked after several minutes.

Newt nodded. “Hurry!” he hissed. “We’ve got about ten seconds before the next guard shows up.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Thomas said, stepping out into the corridor.

They forgot about the soldier with the coffee.

The cup shattered as it hit the floor, the guard wrenching his gun into the air. “Nobody move!” he roared.

They ran for it.

They hurtled around a corner and into a section of laboratories, the rooms white and blindingly bright. Another shout of alarm went up.

“Shit. Move!” Thomas shouted, shoving Newt ahead of him.

All around them, scientists in lab coats were screaming, crouching low as they stampeded towards the exit. The shouting of the soldiers grew louder, the heavy footsteps drawing closer from every direction.

_Why were all these people working under Janson?_ Thomas asked himself.

A flash of movement; this time, it was masked soldiers swarming the corridors.

“Elite guards!” Newt yelled. “Ruby knows!”

Minho gritted his teeth. “Sorry, Tomboy!” he yelled, grabbing his blaster and firing at the oncoming soldiers.

Taser bolts ricocheted around the space, blue electricity crackling as the guards fell like dominoes.

Bursting into another passage, they ran past a series of windows. They skidded to a halt in unison, staring out at the city, the bright orange flicker of the explosions outside dancing across their faces.

“It’s nearly midnight,” Newt gasped. “We’re running out of time.”

Thomas grimaced. “Come on!”

“Over here! There they are!” another voice yelled from behind them. “I’ll cut them off!”

The three of them skidded onto the floor around a corner, their spines crashing painfully against the wall.

“Don’t ask me how,” Newt panted, “but I think we’re being herded.”

Thomas nodded. “We need to get as high up in this building as possible!”

“So what’s the plan?” Minho asked. His eyes widened. “Shuck!”

He shot at another guard, the soldier crashing to the floor mere feet away from them.

Newt scrambled across the floor to them. He turned the man over, frantically searching his armour and eventually pulling at one of the gadgets attached to the guard’s ammo belt.

He experimentally clicked a button, and the device in his hands began to beep. His eyes widened in realisation. “Get back!” he roared, shoving Thomas and Minho back against the wall in one swift motion as he threw the grenade down the corridor.

Seconds later, the room exploded with bolts of electricity and white hot sparks that had them shielding their eyes. The five soldiers in the hallway dropped to the floor screaming.

“Nice,” Thomas panted.

“Alright. Let’s go!” Newt shouted.

A distant explosion rocked the building. The lights flickered, briefly plunging them into darkness, sending them stumbling in the pitch black hallway.

“They must’ve attacked the power grid!” Newt shouted.

Thomas gulped. “Keep moving! Go, go!”

They bolted up the next set of stairs, taser bolts screaming past them; one struck the glass wall lining the steps, crystals flying everywhere as they climbed higher and higher, putting as much distance between them and the soldiers as possible.

“Move it, shanks!” Minho roared.

Finally, they reached the top floor. They charged through the door, slamming it shut behind them and locking it.

No one followed. Gasping for air, they slowly turned around.

This part of the building was silent. Their panted breathing filled the space, a long corridor with dark, empty laboratories on the left, and glass windows on the right showing a burning city. Explosions shook the building, and the faint, sharp rat-a-tat of gunfire could be heard in the distance, mixed with screams and sirens that filled the night.

“No one’s here,” Minho said. “Come on, shanks, let’s move -”

“Wait.” Thomas pointed. “Look.”

Ahead on their left was another seemingly abandoned lab ... but this time, the door was wide open.

All of them knew enough about video games to understand what that meant.

“I’m gonna go take a look,” Thomas said.

“No,” Newt said immediately, snatching his hand. “You don’t bloody know what’s through that door.”

“I’ll be fine,” Thomas assured him. “I’ll take a quick look, and if it’s nothing we’ll move on; keep searching until we find wherever we’re supposed to be.”

“That Janson shank’s got to be hiding around here somewhere,” Minho added. “We’re pretty much at the top of the building.”

Newt lifted his blaster weapon. “We’ll cover you,” he said firmly.

Thomas threw him a small smile. “Thanks, babe.”

Minho gagged.

Steeling himself, Thomas exhaled deeply and strode forward into the laboratory.

It was by all appearances abandoned. The room was dark, with only the faint blue emergency lamps providing him with enough light to see anything. Sparks flickered over his head, the outside fires a faint orange glow on the windows.

There didn’t seem to be anything sinister awaiting them. Thomas turned around, shrugging at Newt and Minho. “Looks okay to me -”

Movement caught his eye; his gaze flicked to the window behind them, a shout of alarm dying on his lips.

A second later, the missiles impacted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! <3
> 
> This one took a little longer to finish than expected, haha I feel like there's a bit of pressure on my shoulders to make sure you all get a worthwhile ending!! I've had to carefully outline my next few chapters, making sure I have all my ducks in a row and all that.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed that! The sneaking around is based on one of my favourite stealth missions ever in the Xbox Star Trek game. My sister and I drove ourselves nuts trying to complete it, but it was hilarious and super rewarding to finish it! And then of course it shifts into a more familiar scene from The Death Cure.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you're enjoying the story! A HUGE thank you to those who have left such wonderful comments so far, you really keep me motivated and inspired to keep writing.
> 
> Stay safe everyone <3 <3 I'm thinking of you all xx (I truly hope this gave you a little bit of a smile to help get through this next week. We've got this!!)
> 
> PS: Personal life has been a little crazy too with essential work and all that, so I apologise if the next chapter takes another couple of weeks.


	14. Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drops and flees!!!* (mwahaha .....)

Chaos erupted.

An explosion ripped through the building with an earsplitting _BANG_ , the floor heaving. Glass flew in all directions as windows shattered, heat gushing through the hallway as fire filled the space, lights shattering and sparks flying. Minho and Newt went crashing to the floor while Thomas was thrown backwards by the force of the blast, skidding along the linoleum and rolling to a stop.

And then, to their utter horror, the laboratory door came crashing down, plummeting with the precision of a guillotine.

A wave of panic swept over Thomas, terror surging through him. Newt and Minho were on the other side.

There was the audible clank of the door locking.

Clambering to their feet, Newt and Minho slammed their fists against the transparent door, pounding on the glass, kicking and punching it and yelling obscenities.

A cloud of smoke began to fill the far side of the lab, flames licking at the counters and up the walls, the window beyond already lit by a disconcerting orange glow. There was the dark shadow of a person -

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Thomas swore, sweat pouring down his face, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. _This is not good, this is not good, this is not -_

A figure emerged from the smoke and flames; a tall man with a drawn, rat-like face and thinning silver hair. He wore a black leather jacket over a grey turtleneck.

_Janson_.

The man smirked. “Good evening, Doctor Bravestone.”

Thomas was frozen, his mouth falling open, every single possible thought in his mind screeching to a halt.

This was what everything had been leading up to. This was the man they had been hunting; the one they had died multiple times for in their pursuit. It was the showdown Thomas had somehow always known would happen; the final boss battle between the villain and the hero character: Janson, and Doctor Bravestone.

But now, he had no plan. And no way out.

There was the strange muffled sound of something slamming against a solid surface, a dull thudding noise. Goosebumps rising on his arms, Thomas turned his head, and his blood ran cold.

Two Cranks stood behind a glass screen, locked in a cell of sorts, dressed in dirty hospital gowns that showcased the black veins crisscrossing their entire bodies.

_WCKD had been experimenting._

His eyes swept the room again, searching; searching for the precious vial of blue liquid he had seen in Nigel’s visions, their key to getting out of this whole mess.

Janson raised his eyebrows, a knowing look in his eyes. “Oh, you’re looking for this?” he asked, raising his hand ... in which he held a vial of blue liquid.

_The cure_.

He cleared his throat. “Give it here,” he demanded.

_Why did Janson’s voice sound so familiar?_

“I don’t think so,” Janson said, smiling coldly.

And then it hit Thomas.

_A voice echoing; soft, silky, inescapable._ “ _In the beginning, there was darkness_ ...”

It was Janson’s voice they had heard at the start of this whole escapade. One glance at Newt and Minho told him they realised at the exact same time.

Thomas swallowed thickly. He knew he had to navigate carefully from this point; he had to at least try reasoning with Janson.

“Why won’t you give it back to the Right Arm?” he asked tentatively, gesturing to the vial. “You could be a hero. You could save everyone in Jumanji.”

Janson laughed; the sound chilled Thomas. “My dear Bravestone ... I already _am_ a hero. I will be wiping the scum from our world. The Flare has consumed most of our population. I don’t believe we can save them at this point ... even if I wanted to.”

Outside the lab, Newt grabbed Minho’s arm. Neither of them dared breathe.

Janson nonchalantly tossed the vial of serum in the air, making Thomas’s heart thrash anxiously within his ribcage before he caught the cure. “We will build a new Jumanji,” he promised. He coughed, clearing his throat. “One full of hope and promise. Like a phoenix, we will rise from the ashes of this world and begin again. I shall lead us into a new age!”

He sure was a smooth talker. Thomas gritted his teeth. “Is that why you’re holed up here in this city?” he bit out. “So you can watch Jumanji fall into ruin and come out as its _saviour_?”

“Everyone knows you’re here anyway!” Minho yelled through the glass. “You’ve got a whole shucking army sitting on your doorstep, ready to kick your ass!”

Janson barely looked at him, laughing. “Oh, it’s not about hiding,” he assured them. “It’s my mere presence that keeps the rebels in their place. I have my own army of soldiers at my disposal.”

“Disposal,” Thomas spat back at him, pointing. “I bet their loyalty only goes as far as that cure.”

Newt sucked in a sharp breath, unable to tear his eyes away. Thomas was undeniably hot in his anger.

Thomas held out his hand again. “Give it to me,” he demanded. “I’ll get it to the Right Arm; they’ll make more, and everyone will get some. Even you.” He swallowed thickly. “You have my word.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Tommy,” Newt begged quietly. The ice in Janson’s expression made him nervous.

Janson’s eyes flashed. “Unfortunately, Doctor Bravestone, your word means very little to me, not after you stole the key to my berg.”

A weight dropped in Thomas’s stomach. _Gally_.

Janson smiled coldly. “Nothing personal.”

Movement over his shoulder drew Thomas’s attention; an idea drifted to the forefront of his mind ... perhaps, maybe, Janson needed an incentive to cooperate.

In a blur of muscle, Thomas snatched the boomerang from his belt and hurled it at Janson as hard as he could.

It arced past him and slammed end first into the glass wall behind him ... the one holding two Cranks within.

“Bloody hell, Tommy!” Newt yelled as the weapon clattered to the floor.

“How could you miss?!” Minho howled. “He was six feet in front of you!”

Glancing at them, Janson laughed, loudly and cruelly. “Missed, you little shit.”

Thomas’s gaze darted, noticing the spiderweb of cracks beginning to creep across the glass behind Janson. He raised his eyebrows, confidence surging through him. “Did I?”

Janson didn’t realise. He smirked, his arm twitching. “Yes. But I didn’t.”

He wrenched a handgun from his belt and fired at Thomas before he could utter another word, the bullet hurtling through his torso.

All of them felt it like a physical punch. Newt screamed, slamming his fists against the window. Minho clamped his arms around Newt, holding him together even as he stared at Thomas in horror.

Thomas gasped raggedly, clutching his chest as blood began to bloom across his shirt. At the last moment, he glanced at Newt, his eyes churning with emotion and pain and a thousand words left unsaid.

Newt felt his lungs caving.

With a quiet groan, his eyes closing, Thomas collapsed to the floor ... and even in the dim lighting of the lab, Newt could just make out the final black line on his wrist disappearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! Um ... sorry for that ending??!?! :D
> 
> This one was a lot of fun to write! Everything is building up towards the end now (look, I even have the final chapter count up now! IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN). As you may recognise, I'm kinda keeping with the whole lab setting like in Death Cure, with those same Cranks in the cell. Janson is still very much the same awful person he is in the movies, his motives have just been adjusted slightly to fit with the video game scenario!
> 
> Oooh I wonder how Gally is doing?! *trailer voice* Has he walked into a trap? Is he fighting for survival? Stay tuned to find out!
> 
> Also who picked up on Minho's Mushu reference?? Hehe. (Having said that, that is ALSO a reference to my other tmr fic Ready to Run in which Brenda (in chapter 20) mistakenly called him Mushu)
> 
> Anyway. THOUGHTS ON THAT ENDING?! Will our two star-crossed lovers ever be together again? Will Newt lose his shit and challenge Janson? Would Minho even be able to STOP him???
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you're enjoying the story! Would love to know what you all thought of this one, even if it's just a few words. Stay safe everyone <3 xx


	15. Metal Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave you all hanging there for a while haha. Enjoy this next chapter!! xx

Gally couldn’t say he had been expecting his tunnel to land him outside the wall again on the far side of the city.

“Game logic,” he muttered, thinking of the small amount of time that had passed since he had parted from the others.

Steeling himself, he jammed the manhole cover back in place - it was all but guaranteed he wouldn’t be coming that way again - and took in his surroundings.

He was standing in what appeared to be an intentionally abandoned area, barbed fences surrounding a large flat expanse with several massive steel sheds crowding it. The wall rose up behind him, impossibly high.

He barely heard the drums pounding over his head, the beat of his heart far louder in his ears.

The airbase was dark and cold as night settled in. Gally shivered, wishing he could pull an extra coat out of his backpack. Alas, he knew from his own character knowledge that it only contained weapons and gear. Typical.

He crept along the walls of the buildings, making his way towards the largest building at the rear of the lot, at the end of a large expanse of concrete - a runway. He listened for the possible sounds of guards; he hadn’t encountered anyone so far, which was unusual in itself. He would have thought the place would be swarming with -

_Click. Click-clack. Hissss._

Gally’s blood ran cold.

He would recognise that sound anywhere. Slowly, he peered around the corner, his heart in his mouth.

There, standing guard at the hangar doors, was a Griever.

Gally suddenly wondered if he should have brought backup instead of stubbornly insisting he could do this alone. However, it was too late now.

He took a deep breath, assessing the situation. From his observations of the other buildings, each one had a singular entrance. There was no way around it; he would have to get past the Griever if he wanted to get to the berg.

Gally’s eyes drifted over the creature, studying it as it prowled. He knew it was fast, so he couldn’t outrun it. He had to avoid its legs at all costs; if he got Stung, that would be the absolute end of it.

Lives aside, he couldn’t afford to take any risks. There was a reason they were being given a berg, and there was a high chance it would be the difference between making it out alive ... and game over.

As his gaze scanned over the creature’s grotesque body, his frantic thoughts screeched to a halt.

There was one thing he had forgotten about Grievers in his panic last time: every single one of the wretched creatures had a spot beneath their necks that would temporarily paralyse them.

His hands shaking, Gally reached into his backpack, praying the bag would give him exactly what he would need, because he had no idea.

He hauled out a crossbow.

“Come on,” he muttered, getting himself into position. “Channel your inner Bravestone. What would Thomas do? What would Thomas -?” He paused and laughed quietly to himself. “I must be losing it if I’m thinking of the greenie first.”

Steeling himself, Gally shook his head clear, focusing on keeping his breathing steady. He aimed, exhaled ... and fired.

He missed.

The Griever screeched furiously, hissing as it turned its gaze on Gally, the arrow sticking out of its skull.

“So, they really don’t have brains, huh,” Gally muttered to himself.

The Griever charged.

Gally froze, eyes wide with terror. This hadn’t been part of the plan. He should have brought backup; he should have waited another moment, should have moved closer -

_Oh, shuck it._

Howling at the top of his lungs, Gally ran at the Griever.

He could feel his terror mounting, but he reined it in. He knew he had no chance in hell of getting a proper shot at its neck now; he needed a new plan, and fast. _They’re not all protected, they have weak spots -_

He dove sideways at the last second, sending the Griever crashing past him.

Gally’s fingers hammered the trigger with each loaded arrow, but the bolts ricocheted off its hard shell, pinging back towards him with such an alarming velocity he cowered down with his arms clamped over his head until the coast was clear.

Shrieking, the Griever spun around, enraged. With the clank of shifting metal, its tail swung up onto the air, the prongs twisting menacingly in the air. Gally gulped, memories of Thomas’s first game death flashing through his mind.

Hissing, the Griever reared, drawing itself up to its full, terrifying height, staring down at Gally, daring him; _challenging_ him.

Even as dread surged through him, Gally couldn’t help noticing that the underbelly of the creature was unprotected, a soft, pulsing grey, thick with hairs and oozing slime.

In a moment of startling clarity, he suddenly knew what he had to do.

The Griever charged again, and this time he was ready.

Gally ducked around the creature as it struck the ground around him. He dove sideways, dodging the attacks, slipping beneath the prongs as it swept its tail towards him.

“Come on!” he taunted, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Is that the best you can do?”

He saw the needle emerge from the Griever’s leg, and he knew it was time.

As it charged at him a third time, Gally sprinted forward and threw himself down onto the concrete at the last second, skidding beneath the creature; he wrenched his crossbow up, four arrows locked and loaded, and fired.

The projectiles slammed into the soft, pulsing grey, ripping through the underbelly. Gunk sprayed from the fatal wounds, showering Gally with a torrent of brown and green slime ... and to add insult to injury, with a heinous shriek the Griever collapsed directly on top of him, dead.

“What - the - _SHUCK_?” Gally howled.

No one was around to hear him, but he was going to let the universe know what he thought of it even if it was the last thing he did.

Swearing under his breath, Gally shoved at the Griever, shuffling out from under its nauseating carcass. “Stupid piece of - shucking Griever - gonna kill the greenie -”

Finally, he was free; he gave the Griever a kick for good measure. “Serves you right for messing with me,” he said, wiping the slime off himself as best as he could and trying desperately not to retch. “Ugh ...”

Still covered in most of the grime, he stomped towards the gargantuan metal shed towering over him. Gritting his teeth, he shoved at the hangar door. It slid open on both sides, the towering sheets of metal gliding sideways ...

“Shuck,” Gally whispered.

A magnificent aircraft sat before him. It was shaped like the letter T, the podlike body supported by wings at the forefront of the ship - with a massive propellor at the tip of each wing - and powerful engines at the rear. She was a thing of beauty.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he ran forward, darting beneath the craft. With the whir of machinery, a ramp door opened beneath the tail as if the berg could sense his presence. Grinning, Gally charged onboard, racing through the cargo area and plonking himself down in the cockpit, hands greedily grasping the controls the moment he was strapped in.

He couldn’t drive a truck - that point had already been proven, his bruised pride reminded him - but an _aircraft_ ... it was as if he had been born to do this, the controls responding to him as if they were of one mind, one body.

He gunned it, steadily pushing the throttle forward. The engine roared beneath him, the whole aircraft shaking, and then it charged out of the hangar, down the runway ...

The berg soared up into the sky.

“Whoo!” Gally hollered, grinning and yelling at the top of his lungs as the sensation of weightlessness overtook him for a second. He angled the control stick, ready to curve up and over the wall. “Alright, shanks, hold tight; I’m on my way!”

The cockpit was suddenly flooded with light. Shielding his eyes, Gally glanced sideways and felt his jaw drop open.

Floating in front of him was a translucent glowing orb, beautiful and otherworldly.

It was like an instinct; he didn’t need to be told what this magical glowing orb was, his gut feeling providing him with an answer.

It was an extra life.

Gally swallowed thickly, glancing down at his wrist and eyeing the black line shimmering in the light. The others were relying on him; he had to make it to WCKD headquarters to get them all out. He couldn’t risk _not_ taking the life - if something happened -

Moments before his fingers touched the shimmering orb he doubled over the berg controls, agony slamming through him. Gally clutched at his chest, bile rising in his throat. “Thomas,” he gasped.

He didn’t know how he knew, but Thomas had just used up his last life.

_“Look how far we’ve come! We’ve faced mazes and monsters and lightning and still made it this far ... We get out now, or we die trying.”_

_Or we die trying._

“Like _hell_!” Gally snarled.

He gritted his teeth. “Save Thomas!” he yelled at the floating orb, focusing his thoughts on his classmate, on his ... _friend_.

Huh.

The moment the realisation entered his mind, the floating light vanished, and Gally felt a sense of peace, the pain finally subsiding. He gripped the control sticks of the berg as the wave of nausea passed, hoping like shuck his insane idea had actually worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THOUGHTS?!?!
> 
> Okay okay, I know you want to get back to our tragic star-crossed lovers, but as you can probably tell this was a pretty important chapter that I HAD to add in :"D also it was fun going to Gally, seeing what he was up to, and of course challenging a Griever. Clearly all four Glader boys are missing a few brain cells.
> 
> I was stuck for a little bit trying to think how you would show an extra life in a game, aside from their wrists adding an extra line, but I think/hope that turned out alright?! And the Griever attack took a little longer than I planned haha - I was trying to balance action and substance without dragging it out.
> 
> Anyway. Let me know your thoughts down in the comments, and feel free to leave kudos if you're enjoying the story!! :D stay safe everyone, hope you're all doing okay <3


	16. Chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO!!!!! And ... wait ... is that the faint sound of NEWTMAS I hear??? ;) xx

The world was cold.

Newt could feel himself spinning out of control. _Tommy couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t -_

He thought of that moment when they snuck into the WCKD building, when Thomas had blurted out his feelings ... when Newt had told him to save it for later.

Bloody hell, he should have kissed him. He should have done it then and there, to hell with the circumstances. He should have held his Tommy closer, told him just how bloody much he meant to him. He thought they would have had time; no distractions, finish the game, and sort out their feelings later.

But Jumanji had stolen those moments from them.

His expression hungry, Janson turned his gaze to them. He smirked tauntingly, beckoning as he pressed a button on the wall. There was the clank of the door unlocking.

Newt swallowed thickly. “We have to get that serum,” he said through his tears. “We _have_ to, Min.”

Minho nodded. “It might bring him back,” he said. “Maybe everything will go back to the way it was as soon as we finish this shucking game -”

A sudden, blinding flash of light filled the room; shielding his eyes, Newt just had time to see a glowing orb floating above Thomas’s prone form before his avatar vanished, the room turning dark again.

“What the shuck?” Minho asked while Newt stared in horror at the spot where Thomas had been lying mere seconds before.

Without warning, a boomerang came flying through the window, glass crashing, and ploughed straight into Janson. The vial of serum soared out of his hand ... and landed in the fist of Doctor Bravestone.

Newt thought he might pass out. “Tommy?” he choked out.

Thomas’s eyes flashed, his body silhouetted against the blazing inferno outside as he caught the boomerang. “We’re not leaving without the serum,” he told Janson, his voice shaking.

Snarling, Janson hammered the trigger in a burst of gunfire.

Thomas’s body acted before he was even aware of it; time moving in slow motion, he threw the boomerang ... but this time, it arced and whirled around his body, around and around, faster and faster, bullets ricocheting off the weapon.

The perfect shield.

Janson fired again and again; a blaze of light encapsulating Thomas like sparklers on Fourth of July as the boomerang picked up speed, the golden flicker highlighting bulging muscles and droplets of sweat; a breathtaking, intoxicating, _immovable_ force.

“I think I’m in love,” Newt whispered, entranced.

“ _Duh_!” Minho grabbed Newt. “Come on then, lover boy!”

They charged into the room. Ruby’s features twisted in a furious snarl, red hair flying, Newt sprinted forward and spun in the air, one long leg swinging out and slamming into Janson, sending him crashing to the floor. “Don’t you bloody dare touch my boyfriend again!” he yelled.

His chest heaving, Thomas blinked stupidly, his mouth agape from the display of agility. “Boyfriend?”

“Yes, and we’ll have a discussion about your lack of self preservation tactics later!” Newt snarled, his eyes blazing. He threw another punch at Janson before turning to Thomas with a weak smile. “Glad you’re okay, Tommy.”

It was all Thomas could do not to close the distance between them.

“Tomboy!” Minho yelled, tackling him to the ground.

As they skidded behind a row of counters - Newt crashing down beside them - a bullet slammed into the wall where Thomas had been standing a split second earlier.

Janson tutted. “Dear me, Doctor Bravestone,” he chuckled. “Three against one, that hardly seems fair.”

“Says the man who took Jumanji’s only chance for a cure for himself,” Thomas bit out.

With a deafening bang, another bullet ricocheted off the counter just above their heads. “We all must make sacrifices,” Janson said.

The soft sound of footsteps ...

“Shit - _move_!” Thomas cried.

It wasn’t a moment too soon. There was a spray of gunfire over their heads.

“He’s gotta run out of bullets at some point!” Newt gasped.

“Video game logic,” Minho snarled, grabbing the blaster weapon from his belt and rocketing to his feet. “YAAAAAAAAH!!!”

Janson dove behind a desk as bolts of blue electricity arced across the room, blinding and beautiful and deadly all at once. As all fell silent again, he laughed, rising to his feet and eyeing the weapons trained on him. “You were unwise to underestimate my empire, Doctor Bravestone.”

A door against the far wall opened and a horde of masked soldiers swarmed into the room, lining themselves in front of Janson in two uniform rows, the lab turning claustrophobic.

“Shuck!” Minho swore.

“What the bloody hell did you _do_ to piss him off?!” Newt groaned.

The bullets started flying, sending them cowering behind the work stations. However, within seconds Minho was clambering to his feet, taking on the guards with his weapon gripped tightly in his hands. “Come on, shanks!”

“I’m not hurting anyone else!” Thomas yelled, his chest tightening.

“Well, I want to go home!” Minho shouted back, stunning three soldiers at once.

Newt gripped Thomas’s shoulder, Ruby’s nails digging into him. He stared at Thomas with knowing, kind eyes. “It’s okay, Thomas,” he breathed. “It’s _okay_. You’re no less of a person for wanting that.”

“But, what if we _die_?” Thomas asked, begging, his eyes shining, barely aware of the gunfire around him. “We haven’t got any lives to spare - I don’t know how I did it before -”

Strangely, Newt smiled. “Tommy, we only ever have one life. Alright?” He tenderly cupped Thomas’s cheek. “We just gotta decide what to do with the chances given to us.”

“A little _help_ over here?!” Minho howled as Janson stared at them smugly from the rear of the room, a wall of soldiers between them.

As Newt stood up to return the enemy fire, Thomas could feel his pulse thrumming beneath the single black line on his wrist. This was _it_.

“Dance with them, Newtie!” Minho yelled.

“I need a bloody stereo, mate! Your tone deaf vocals ain’t gonna cut it!”

_You’re in a video game, you’re in a video game, you’re in a video game -_

Pocketing the cure, Thomas rocketed to his feet and hammered the trigger, taser bolts firing across the room, soldiers toppling over amidst bolts of blue light, groaning and wheezing as they fell unconscious.

They scurried around the room, dodging bullets aimed their way, ducking and diving around the work stations for a better view, using the shadows of the lab to their advantage even as the city fires raged outside, the room glowing eerily. Thomas suddenly felt entirely in his element; this was an aspect of gaming he was uncomfortably familiar with as the enemy NPCs dropped to the floor one after the other.

As they stunned the last few guards and ducked for cover, Thomas suddenly realised that - amidst the chaos - Minho had vanished. “Minho? Minho!” he hissed.

“Hold your fire, Bravestone.”

“Listen, Oberon, pal,” Minho rattled off, his voice tight, “your weak ass excuse for a punch was supposed to be my moment of glory -”

He made a choked sound, and Thomas’s blood ran cold. Ever so carefully, he and Newt peered over the top of the counters.

Janson had his gun pointed at Minho’s head, one arm clamped around his neck, strangling him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO ALL!! Thank you so so much for hanging in there and reading this latest update - and oOPS ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER
> 
> SURPRISE!!! There’s an EXTRA chapter now, whoo!!!  
> So I had this chapter written out, it was all good ... but the more I read it, the more I felt something was missing. BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD, as they say! I rewrote the entire middle section - originally, it was going to be just Thomas in the lab, but I had to bring in Newt and Minho. No way Newt is gonna just sit back while his Tommy is in trouble, hehe.  
> As you may have noticed, there are now 19 CHAPTERS in total. (Well, 18 plus an epilogue)
> 
> This time I am actually really sorry for the wait on this one. I had it sitting for a couple of days while I stewed over ideas and went and worked on my Ready to Run fic to try help me get back into the swing of things. But we got there eventually!! I also managed to get in the little speech thing about the lives, which has been worrying Thomas for the last couple of levels, no matter how confident he tried to sound to the others. Newt, of course, sees right through that.
> 
> And some more bants! I admit, it’s been nice to get away from the angst and show them being silly teenagers again :”D
> 
> I know there’s a lot riding on these last few chapters, so I desperately hope you’re enjoying them!! I need to polish off the next part, but it should be up sooner :)
> 
> Anyway, I truly hope you liked this latest update. Let me know your thoughts down in the comments, they really keep me inspired to write! And feel free to leave any kudos :D xx
> 
> Stay safe everyone!!


	17. Call Out Its Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drops and runs* enjoy!! :D

“Drop your weapons and hand over the serum _now_ ,” Janson ordered coldly, “or your sidekick dies.”

“Watch it -!” Minho started to growl, before a tighter hold cut him off.

Newt and Thomas were frozen. They glanced at each other, trying to wordlessly convey some - or _any_ \- kind of plan, but they could only gape in horror. Finally, they rose to their feet, their weapons clattering to the floor.

Janson laughed. “Your mission was a failure from the start,” he jeered. “And at what cost? This city’s falling apart. You’ll never make it out alive, not with your current resources.”

Thomas’s fingers tightened around the precious vial of serum. “Don’t count on it.”

Janson grinned nastily, blood trickling from his mouth. “Oh, but I am.”

_Clack!_

Janson stared at his gun in horror, the bloodthirsty weapon finally silent.

The second Janson’s grip slackened, Minho elbowed him in the stomach before turning on his heel and kneeing him in the groin. “That’s what I’m talking about!” he crowed as Janson doubled over, coughing raggedly. “And that’s _Professor_ Sheldon Oberon to you, old man! Professor with a PH-shucking-D in archaeology _and_ cartography - which led me all the way to your doozy of a hideout to WHUP YOUR SHUCKING ASS -”

Movement caught Thomas’s eye. “Minho, get back!”

As Minho scrambled back towards them, Thomas threw the boomerang with as much force as he could muster. It went flying past Janson, slamming into the glass behind him.

It was the final straw.

The glass shattered, crystals cascading, and the Cranks launched themselves at Janson, tackling him to the floor and sinking their teeth into him, blood splattering across linoleum.

Newt grabbed Thomas’s hand. “Come on, Tommy!”

The three of them bolted for the main door, Minho slamming his hand against the _OPEN_ button. Something flashed in the corner of Thomas’s vision, and he chanced a glance over his shoulder.

One of the Cranks had hit Janson’s chest, his stats box hanging over his writhing body.

**WEAKNESSES:  
 _THE FLARE_**

****“Knew it,” Thomas growled viciously. The warning sign from the Scorch had been seared into his memory, Flare symptoms he had sworn himself to watch out for to protect Newt; Janson coughing, his hand twitching, his arm jerking fitfully as he drew his weapon.

They had barely cleared the entranceway when the door crashed shut behind them, sealing the lab as they abandoned Janson to his fate.

Panting, Thomas turned to look at the fiery avatar beside him. “Newt,” he began.

With a hoarse growl Thomas had never heard before - a sound he wouldn’t have minded hearing again - Newt clamped his arms around him, hugging him so tightly Thomas could hardly breathe.

But, then, he always felt like that around Newt.

“Don’t bloody scare me like that ever again!” Newt shouted.

His heart hammering in his ribcage, Thomas crushed Newt against his chest. “I’ll try, babe,” he whispered.

Another explosion rocked the building.

“There’ll be time for that later, lovebirds!” Minho shouted. “Come on, we’re still playing!”

They charged down the hallway, Newt and Thomas hand in hand. Alarms wailed in their ears, the sheer cacophony overwhelming. Sparks burst from an overhead light, the passage lit by red emergency lamps. The floor heaved with every explosion from outside.

Thomas’s eyes were drawn to a nearby door, a green _EXIT_ sign hanging over it. _Seriously?_ he thought even as he yelled, “There!”

He shoved the door open with his shoulder, the door flying off its hinges as they charged into the stairwell. They had just started down the steps when there was an explosion from the level below, a fireball erupting up the shaft in a burst of yellow and orange. They lurched backwards at the searing heat.

“Climb, climb!” Newt cried hoarsely, clamping a hand over his mouth and nose.

They staggered up the stairs, clutching the handrails. Smoke engulfed them as they climbed higher and higher, flames licking the walls. Sweltering and wheezing, they burst through the last door and out onto the roof. They stared, devastated and dumbstruck by the sight that met their already stinging eyes.

They were _surrounded_ by flames.

“Wait, what’s that?!” Thomas shouted.

The hot air began to churn around them. Newt gasped in relief while Minho crowed with joy - for there, emerging out of the fiery smoke, was a berg, hovering just beyond the roof of the WCKD building with its ramp door hanging open.

“Get in, shanks!” Gally howled at them.

Not needing to be told twice, they sprinted forward, Thomas pushing Newt ahead of him. “Go, go, go!” he shouted. “Just jump!”

The distance yawned between the roof and the berg, but they did not slow; _couldn’t_ slow; if anything, they ran faster, _faster_.

Minho threw himself forward, landing with windmilling arms; Newt flipped across the gap, red hair flying, and landed solidly beside him; Thomas completely misjudged the distance and launched himself into the berg, rolling and coming to a stop in the middle of the aircraft. He staggered to his feet, exhaling heavily.

“You got it?!” Gally yelled over his shoulder.

Thomas jerked his head, raising his fist. “We’ve got the cure!”

Minho stared. “What the shuck happened to _you_?!” he asked, appalled by the layer of slime coating Gally.

“Had a Griever guarding the berg hangar,” Gally told him tightly. “And you can’t talk; you look like you burnt your eyebrows off, Mean-Hoe.”

“He’s got a point,” Newt interjected with the trace of a smile.

With the roar of collapsing steel, the building they had been standing on mere seconds earlier collapsed in a cloud of smoke and dust, fire licking the underside of the berg. All of them stared in shock.

“To think -” Newt choked out, “- if we hadn’t grabbed the bloody key -”

“We would’ve lost our last lives back in that building,” Minho finished grimly.

Gritting his teeth, Gally pushed at the throttle. There was a sharp whining noise, the berg growling thunderously, and they accelerated into the night, the burning city falling away below them. Thomas, Newt and Minho watched, transfixed, until the ramp door closed and obscured their view.

Gally spun around in his seat. “Greenie, show me your wrist!” he shouted.

Bewildered, Thomas held his arm out, showing the black line on his skin. “How did you know?” he asked over the roar of the wind.

“I got a bonus life once I got the berg out!” Gally told them. He glanced out the front windscreen again, navigating around another flaming skyscraper. “Felt you take a hit and gave it to you!”

Thomas gaped at him for a moment. “Thank you, Gally.”

“No problem. What the hell do we do now, shank?”

Thomas scratched at his head, trying frantically to remember exactly what Nigel had told them; that felt like months, _years_ ago at this point. “I don’t know! We did everything we were supposed to -”

Newt started. “Call out its name,” he whispered.

There was a pause, realisation dawning on their faces.

“Yes, Newt!” Minho crowed, clapping him on the back. “Come on, you shanks! Jumanji!”

“Jumanji!” the call went up around the craft, over and over, louder and louder as they hollered skywards with their last ragged shreds of energy, screaming until their throats were raw. “Jumanji! JUMANJI! JUMANJI!”

The vial of blue liquid began to glow.

“Woah, woah, what’s that?!” Thomas gasped as an eerie wind swept through the berg, shielding his eyes.

There was a blinding flash of light and the roar of the aircraft disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI ALL!!!! Thank you so much for reading this latest update!!
> 
> Things have been a little crazy lately, I'm truly sorry for the wait. Had all my birthday stuff going on, but then work and general stress for this whole thing got the better of me and I didn't have much energy or motivation to write. But here I am again!!
> 
> I really hope you liked this one. It was awesome to write Gally rejoining our Ivy Trio! It's scary how close we are to the end of the story now hahA. From here it's just going to be wrapping things up, tying up loose ends and - of course - plenty of character and newtmas moments ;)
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and/or kudos, would love to know your feedback! Stay safe everyone, hope you're all doing okay! <3 <3


	18. Homeward Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol does anyone still remember what's happening here?! Yiiiikes it's been a few weeks ... again ... anyway, enjoy!! :D xx

The sun burned down on them, the pleasant chirp of birds sounding around them. There was a warm, sweet smell to the air, of fruit and flowers and pine. It was achingly familiar.

“No way,” Newt laughed.

Thomas opened his eyes, and his jaw promptly fell open. They were back in the Glade, and it was just as green and peaceful as he remembered it, the ivy-covered walls towering over them.

Paradise, in every sense of the word.

“Wait,” he began, hardly daring to hope. “Does that mean ...?”

Minho beamed. “I think we did it, shanks!” he hollered.

There was the thunderous blast of a foghorn, echoing off the walls around the Glade, and the ground beneath their boots began to shake.

Gally pointed. “The lift!”

They rushed to the shaft in the centre of the field to see the lift rising to join them, a familiar figure standing within.

A moment later, it came to a gentle stop and Nigel hopped out. He beamed at them. “Well done, intrepid adventurers!” he cried. “You managed to retrieve the cure. All of Jumanji thanks you. Congratulations!”

No one knew who moved first, but suddenly they were all hugging, grinning and crowing with joy and laughter, hands clamping down on each other’s shoulders.

Nigel looked at Thomas and held out his hand. Bowing his head in understanding, Thomas placed the vial of blue liquid in his palm.

Nigel smiled warmly. “I will see that it is returned to the Right Arm, and distributed to the population accordingly,” he said, tucking the cure into his breast pocket. He straightened up. “And now, I must bid you farewell. Professor Oberon, let me shake your hand.”

Minho grinned. “Hell yeah, we did it,” he crowed, clasping Nigel’s forearm.

Before anything else could be said, Minho began to disappear, his body being sucked into a stream of green magic now shooting towards the sky. A moment later, Sheldon Oberon was gone.

Thomas, Gally and Newt all looked at one another, realisation hitting them; they were going _home_.

Nigel turned to Gally, chuckling. “I will miss you the most, my dear Mouse -”

“Get me the hell outta here!” Gally cut him off, lunging for his hand.

Thomas laughed, shaking his head in amusement. Seconds later, Franklin Finbar had disappeared.

Newt glanced down at his chest. “It’s been fun, but I’m quite ready to be a boy again,” he chuckled. Rolling his shoulders, he stepped towards Nigel, flicking the strands of red out of his eyes.

“Newt, wait,” Thomas garbled, grabbing his hand.

Newt turned to look at him, his expression questioning.

Thomas swallowed thickly. “You won’t forget, will you?” he asked quietly, pleadingly. “All of this; what we went through here together.”

Newt smiled softly at him, his eyes shining with fondness. “Never.”

With one final squeeze of his fingers, Newt pulled away and clasped Nigel’s forearm; seconds later, Ruby Roundhouse was swept into the stream of magic, surging into the sky and disappearing.

Smiling sadly, Nigel extended his hand to Thomas. “Doctor Bravestone, it’s truly been an honour. Farewell, my friend.”

Exhaling deeply, Thomas glanced down at the body of his avatar; at the incredible, strong, courageous character he’d had the opportunity to embody. “Gonna miss you, Bravestone,” he admitted.

Because he had seen another version of himself; someone he had always wanted to be. And he now realised he _could_ _be_ that person.

With a shake of his shoulders, he stepped forward and clasped Nigel’s arm. He felt a tug in his gut, pressing, pulling; he was disappearing back into the green stream of magic; fading, fading ...

There was a bright flash of light, and then darkness.

o-o-o-o-o

Thomas opened his eyes and just about fell over in shock. They were back in the dark, gloomy basement of their high school, surrounded by boxes of paperwork, the air thick with dust.

He had never felt so comforted by the mouldy stench of their detention room.

“Shuck yes, I’m back!” Gally crowed, beaming. Beside him, Newt was patting his torso in relief, ruffling his now much shorter and distinctly blond hair with a contagious grin.

“I’m never complaining about the gym again!” Minho yelled, kissing his bicep and admiring his tanned, toned body.

Thomas caught Newt’s gaze, his wide, doe-like eyes staring right back. He inhaled sharply, his face flushing as memories flooded his mind. “Newt, I -”

Reaching out, Newt grabbed his jacket. “Oh, my bloody god, you’re such a dumbass,” he laughed, yanking him forwards and crashing his mouth against Thomas’s.

Gasping, Thomas grabbed Newt’s hips to steady himself, nails digging into the waistband of his jeans as he kissed him back, pressing himself closer. It was the Newt he knew; the golden hair, the texture he had longed to know for so long; delicate hands from years of art, a wonderfully curved jawline he had imagined brushing his thumb along, and so he did unashamedly. Newt’s hands snaked up, fingers digging into his scalp -

The door at the top of the stairs opened and they sprang apart. His eyes widening, Gally lunged forward and smacked a stack of files off the table, the papers flying. “For shuck’s sake, greenie!” he snarled just as Mrs Paige descended into the room.

Thomas started, flailing for a response - and that was when he caught Gally’s wink.

His eyes widened. “Sorry, sorry!” he choked out. “It won’t happen again -”

“We were nearly done!” Gally snapped at him.

Newt looked pleadingly at Mrs Paige. “Just twenty minutes more, please?”

Mrs Paige looked between the four of them, narrowing her eyes. “Fifteen.”

With that, she turned on her heel and stomped up the stairs ... but not before they caught a glimpse of the slight smile on her face.

The moment the door slammed shut, the four of them burst into laughter.

“I know that was fun,” Minho grinned, “but let’s never do that again.”

“Shuck no,” Gally agreed.

Thomas opened his mouth to agree ... but something held him back. For all its misgivings, the game had truly given him a chance to grow. _To seize every opportunity._

He glanced down at Newt’s hand, hesitantly reaching out and intertwining their fingers. “Newt, can I take you out on a date?” he asked.

Suddenly, Newt threw his head back and laughed, clutching at his chest as his eyes shone. “Oh, Tommy ... I thought that’s what you just did.”

Minho feigned vomiting into the nearest trashcan and Thomas grinned, flipping him off as he pulled Newt in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading another chapter!! I really appreciate your patience while I a) sort out this plot and b) get my real life shit together ':D
> 
> And so, our heroes return triumphant! Honestly, it was the weirdest thing going back to the school! Had to go back and read the early chapters to remember the setting and remind myself of the descriptions of the basement haha.
> 
> I stuck along the lines of Spencer's character realisation in the reboot film for Thomas because he was much the same, and honestly it's been a joy to write Thomas growing into the leader of the group just as he did in the films. Even when he doubted himself, his heart was always in the right place. (And look! He got them all out of the game in one piece haha)  
> Damn, I'm already getting emotional. I'm really going to miss writing this story!
> 
> *throws newtmas fluff in your direction* I COULDN'T FINISH THE CHAPTER WITHOUT IT OKAY
> 
> ONE MORE TO GO!!!! (It won't be as long as some of these other chapters, but it's still a nice little epilogue :"D wraps things up and stuff)
> 
> I really hope this latest addition to the story made you smile, and I hope you got a good laugh out of it too. Please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos - let me know your thoughts!! Stay safe everyone and take care <3 <3


	19. Lessons of the Past // EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAHHHHH I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS IT  
> Enjoy!! xx

The school gym had been completely transformed for the annual dance. Fairy lights covered the walls, and lanterns hung from the high ceiling; tables crammed with food lined one side of the vast room, and on the other was a dance floor pulsing with flashing lights and music, crowded with students already dancing and raving to songs with their friends.

“Want some cake, Gal?” Minho asked, his eyes glinting as he grabbed himself a massive slice from the buffet selection.

Gally stared longingly at the chocolate dessert for a moment before shaking his head. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Shame.” Minho took a huge mouthful and sighed happily, his eyes closing. “Hmm. The flavour is ... _explosive_.”

“Slinthead,” Gally jabbed as Newt and Thomas doubled over laughing.

The speakers crackled. _“Ooh, baby I love your way ...”_

As the crowd went wild, Newt grinned, nudging Thomas’s shoulder with his own. “Would you like a dance, handsome lad?”

Thomas fought back a smile. “As long as you don’t beat the crap out of me.”

Newt’s eyes twinkled. “The night is still young, Tommy.”

They joined the throng of people. Minho and Gally stood watching as they swung each other around the dance floor, spinning and laughing, hips swaying and arms flailing, hands clasped tightly together. Newt was trying to recreate some of his Ruby Roundhouse moves, and Thomas was pink in the face, grinning idiotically but utterly besotted as he pulled Newt in for a kiss.

“Glad they finally got their klunk together,” Minho said, an underlying fondness to his tone as he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the happy couple for later.

Gally huffed in agreement, but he was smiling too.

The song continued. Minho could even see some of the teachers joining in on the fun, grinning at the sight of Mrs Paige having a little dance with the maths teacher, Mr Jorge.

Gally tensed suddenly. “Back in a minute,” he said quietly, a frown on his face. “And don’t follow.”

“What -?” And that was when Minho saw. The boys Gally had previously associated himself with were gathered over by the DJ booth, pointing at Newt and Thomas and sniggering.

Gally stormed up to them. “You touch them, and you’ll have me to answer to,” he snarled.

They stared. “You’re friends with the greenie now?” one of the boys gaped.

Gally drew himself up to his full height. “So what if I am?” He jerked his head. “The door’s that way if you have a problem with me _or_ them. Got it?”

The other boys scowled but gave short nods.

Minho raised his eyebrows as Gally rejoined him, watching as Gally’s old crowd shuffled off to another part of the auditorium. “You don’t miss them?” he asked.

Gally jerked his head. “Not one jolt.”

Minho clapped him on the shoulder. “Glad you’ve seen the light, my friend.”

“Slim it.”

Oblivious to it all, Thomas pulled Newt close, so eternally grateful for the warmth of his body against him, for the reflection of the disco light in his eyes ... for the endearing smile that was _his_ and his alone. He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re really my boyfriend,” he stated.

Newt laughed, pecking him on the cheek; Thomas blushed. “Trust me, I can’t believe my bloody luck either, Tommy.”

Suddenly, the roar of drums filled the room, pulsing, resounding through their bodies in a frightening sense of deja vu.

The world slowed. Newt, Thomas, Gally and Minho all turned to look at one another in horror, their eyes wide; strangely, no one else seemed to be able to hear it.

“Bloody hell,” Newt whispered in realisation, gaping at Thomas, who gripped his hand tight in response.

The game was calling _them_.

“Oh hell, no,” Gally growled, turning on his heel and charging out of the gym, the others right behind him. “This is not happening again. Shuck no.”

Unfortunately, the gaming console stood no chance against Gally’s wrath and a scavenged baseball bat -

“Wait, can I try?” Thomas asked.

Gally stopped, the bat raised in midair for a second swing. “Huh?”

“I’ve never smashed something up before,” Thomas mumbled.

Newt desperately fought the urge to laugh, his eyes twinkling, and Gally passed him the piece of sporting equipment. “Be my shucking guest,” he grinned.

“Hit it, Tomboy!” Minho crowed.

When the four of them finally returned to the dance floor, cheering and hollering and grinning, they all realised what a wonderful gift Jumanji had given them amidst the chaos of the challenges they had faced together.

They only ever had one life, and they had to make it count in every way possible.

* * *

_**FIN** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it!!
> 
> First off, this epilogue was a lot of fun to write. I've been sitting on it for about a week now, slowly adding little bits in until I was completely happy with it. I hope it was the well-rounded summary you were all after!! We had the final part of Gally's character arc, Newtmas are still very much a happy couple, and Minho stans them :D
> 
> Can't believe I've been posting this pic for just over 6 months now! It's one of the best things I've ever written and it was something really different which I LOVED, I've never done a genre switch like this before, and it was such a new and exciting way to look at the tmr characters. Plus, my first proper newtmas fic!!! <3 It was a great challenge for me, and it honestly helped my writing voice to grow.
> 
> Thank you all so so SO much for reading along with me. It's been awesome to hear your feedback and to have your support <3 <3 (special shoutout to allie for keeping me so motivated and making me laugh aloud after EVERY SINGLE UPDATE with her fabulous commentary). I appreciate every single comment and kudos left on this fic. It's been a ray of sunshine on my darkest days in these tough times. It's been a joy to know just how much all of you have enjoyed this story. LIKE!!!! I can't even express it.
> 
> Please feel free to leave down in the comments any thoughts you have (no matter when you're reading this!) such as favourite scenes and dialogue, or moments that really stuck out for you <3 Thank you for letting me share this with you all!! <3 :D It's been awesome and amazing beyond what words can express, and I am truly grateful. I hope you find this a fic you can return to, to laugh with again and go on an adventure with.
> 
> If you're after more tmr, feel free to go check out my Run (Born/Ready/Nowhere to Run) series. Basically it's what would have happened if another girl had turned up in the Box a couple of months before Thomas and Teresa. It follows along with the movies with added scenes, dialogue and character moments, plus many NEW Glader scenes!! (which I adore, okay) It is very dear to my heart, and I hope you might find the same love for my OC, Lesley, who in my mind is now canon haha.
> 
> For now, I hope you're all having a wonderful week, sending positive vibes to you. Take care!! <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! Leave comments/kudos if you liked it and want to see more :D <3


End file.
